Unsurvivable
by Number One Fan of Journey
Summary: The 53rd Hunger Games were particularly harsh and violent. Everyone involved was scared and scarred, and all but one found it utterly unsurvivable. *Crossover: Some of the tributes bear quite a resemblance to countries we know... Final story of Brutal series.
1. Ready for This

****Author's Note: _What? Seriously?_

Yep.

* * *

**Ivan Muskov, District 4**

A pounding on the door. "Ivan! Wake up! Your breakfast is going to get cold!"

I roll over, off my bed, but the sheets tangle around me, and I'm too not awake to find my way out for a minute.

"Ivan!"

"I'm up!" I call back, kicking the last of the covers away. Oh, Bella gets so impatient! It's just breakfast.

Well, breakfast on reaping day. I can see why she'd be a little more urgent. It could be the last day she sees me alive, and she idolises me so much she has to spend every minute she can with me.

But I'm not so worried about my fate. I'm going off to volunteer for the Hunger Games today, but I know I'll win. If I didn't, well, I wouldn't be volunteering! Well, I might, just so I could rip a few people to little bloody shreds without getting in trouble, but… Nah, it's not worth my life if I can help it.

I throw on a shirt and go over to Cattie's mattress and nudge it with my foot a little. "It's about time to get up, Sis," I hum, yawning and starting for the bathroom we also share. Behind me, Cattie blinks awake and sits up with little hesitation. Wish I could get up like that! I usually need a few minutes.

I only do half of my getting ready before hurrying over to the dining room. Bella runs and tackle-hugs me the moment I get there, and I have to tell her good morning and hug her back before she'll allow me to get to the table. It looks like she probably cooked this morning. Normally, the eleven-year-old doesn't have to do much of the work, but she can be pretty darn persistent when she wants to do something. And she's probably a little afraid this is her goodbye meal with her brother, so I can understand why she'd want to make it herself.

I've just slid into my seat when Mom and Dad stumble in sleepily from their side of the house.

"Good morning!" I call as Bella starts to pour their drinks.

"Morning," Dad says, but Mom's not feeling so talkative. She sits between Dad and me silently before looking me in the eye carefully.

"Ivan?"

"Yes?"

"You know…" She looks at her meal and starts rubbing at one of the forks. "…There's still time. If you don't want to volunteer this year, you don't have to."

"Oh, of course I know that!" I smile. "But there's only one more year after this left for me, and I don't think I could get much more prepared."

Mom pauses before nodding. "All right." She forces a smile. "Good luck, then, dear."

"Thank you," I hum as Cattie hurries into the room.

"Sorry for taking so long!" she says, rubbing a towel in her hair a moment longer before draping it over the back of an unused chair. "I didn't think my shower would take that long!"

"Ah, no worries." I have to laugh a little. I have no idea how she can get clean so quickly. Good thing, though, since we only have one bathroom between us. "Ready to eat?"

"Of course!" She hurries to her seat, just avoiding knocking the chair over in the process. Nice that she isn't actually breaking anything today, haha. "So… Reaping day," she starts, looking at me across Bella's empty seat. She keeps her mouth open, like she's about to say something else, before suddenly lunging for me in a tight hug. "Oh, what are we going to do with you away so long? It's going to be so scary watching you fight out there!"

"I guess so!" After a moment, I start to wriggle out of her hug, and she pulls away, just in time for Bella to bring over the last pair of cups and take her seat next to me. "But it's all right, since you know I'll be back!"

Cattie sniffles, nodding. "Of course you will. Right." She wipes under her eyes.

Aw, everyone's so worried about me! It's nice to have such a good family. So little confidence in me, though! They've even seen me in action in the Training Facility. They should know I can break in heads like I'm picking flowers, ahaha.

And I guess I'll be doing just that in only a few more days! It's such a thrill to think about! My family may not want to let me go, but I'm so excited I can't imagine waiting with them one more year.

**Rica States, District 4**

My alarm rings right on time, and I smash the first button that'll make it shut up before I sit up and stretch. Normally I'd be aiming for the snooze button, but today's the reaping, and for once I'd really rather not be late.

After another moment of rubbing my eyelids, I throw away the sheets, hop out of bed, and hit the shower. From there I put my hair in twin low pigtails, throw my sleep clothes back on—I've figured out that I probably shouldn't wear my nice clothes when I still have to eat—and get to the kitchen.

My parents aren't up yet, so I get some bread toasting and start unloading the refrigerator myself. I won't be eating too much today, since I hear the train meals on the Capitol stuff you twice over, but I definitely won't be starving myself. Everything I cook is piled on a single plate—a bit of a rarity, I admit—and I scarf it down. No sign of life from the other side of the house just yet. No worries. It's not like I need them to escort me over to the town square, anyway.

I chuck the plate in the sink and go back to my room. The closet doors open with a creak.

What to wear today…?

I eventually decide on a short blue skirt and a red-and-white midriffless halter-top. I've been told this is inappropriate to wear to a reaping, but that was from some of the ugly chicks who're just jealous that I can pull it off. And, man, can I pull it off. Just ask all the boys who've tried to pick me up. And then they usually get scared off by the fact that I'm stronger than them. Pfft.

I take a second to wipe a smudge off my glasses and check myself in the mirror. My hair looks brown—it's still a little wet—but that's no big deal. Everything else looks fine.

Oh, wait, I might need shoes.

I hurry back to the closet and, after lots of sifting, decide on some white sandals with star cutouts at the corners. They're flats, but hey, it's not like I have a stature that actually needs heels, anyway.

I slip on my shoes and go back to the living room area. Mom at least is awake now, and I give her a nod before checking the nearest clock. I still have a good half an hour before I have to leave. Man. That's what I get for not hitting the snooze button.

So I go ahead and nibble on some more bacon as the clock ticks down. Dad eventually comes in grumpily, silently acknowledges my presence, and goes to prepare his morning caffeine.

I've just about topped off the package of bacon by the time it's finally time to leave. I'm still out of the house kind of early, but my parents don't mind. They don't mind much of anything.

The square's not too far from here, so I arrive pretty quickly, get my name marked, and hurry off to the Seventeens.

On the way I bump into Ivan.

"Watch where you're going, fatty," I grumble, elbowing him out of the way when he just stands there smiling like an idiot. Which he does a lot. Probably because he is one.

I can't believe I got stuck volunteering the same year as him. I'm going to have to go, like, a week or more trying to get along with him—which hasn't worked for the last some-odd years, in case you were wondering—before I can get rid of him. Ugh. Well, at least I get to bash his giant nose in instead of having to cheer for him.

"Are you ready for the reaping?" he says, clearly not getting the picture that I want him out of the picture.

"No, there's an idiot in the way!" I cross my arms and glare at him. Honestly, he sort of is in the way, since I'm pretty tall but I can't see the stage over his head.

"I didn't know you could get in your own way," he hums, lightly stepping to the side and pivoting so he doesn't face me.

"That's because I can't." Not sure how else to make a comeback, I just put another step between us and wait with heartbeat rising as the reaping finally begins.


	2. Grim Reaping

Author's Note: I feel like I should put in a real A/N this time. So, yes, the fourth installment of the series now exists and will be continued. Consider it your non-placing reviewer reward._  
_

And I still like reviews and feedback, and I will *probably* do reviewer rewards again. I'll have to shoot for something ridiculously high, though. (LIKE, ONE THOUSAND.

...Yeah, okay, no. I'm not that insane.)

Now let us draw a bit closer to the slaughter~

* * *

**Taner Nacar, District 8**

"T.R.! You get lost?"

"Ah?" I step to the edge of the Fifteens' section so I can hear my brother better. "No, no, it was just sort of crowded."

"I see." Cy, who left for the reaping quite a bit earlier than me, grins. "Got here just in the nick of time, though, didn't you? Probably don't even have time to go talk to your girlfriend!"

"She's not my girlfriend."

Cy's response is cut off by the beginning of the reaping ceremony, and I turn silently to watch the event start up.

My brother's an interesting one. Annoying at times, of course, but he has my back and such. He tends to be a bit more gung-ho about things, but I don't mind. I haven't made much of a name for myself, but people can usually identify me as Cy's brother.

I attempt to train my attention on the reaping ceremony, but it's difficult. Try as I might, I can't see over any of the heads in front of me. I can't keep my focus on just the sound so well, especially since what's being read is always the same. Eventually I give up and let my mind wander.

I can't help but be a little anxious about this. I've taken tessarae once, and so has Cy. Either of us could be reaped. I hope it doesn't happen, just like everyone else. It's horrible, what they do to us for a rebellion long past. Cy can get pretty vocal about it when he figures he's safe, but I only join in mentally. Everyone knows what happens to people who are too vocal. Especially when they or their loved ones are reaping age.

Then again, I shouldn't be too paranoid. He shouldn't have been heard by anyone other than his closest friends. And, if the reapings really are from honest chance, there are plenty of other slips in that bowl; my chances of being picked are slim enough. Though I really do doubt it's all luck.

Although it's easy to stay zoned out as the mayor speaks, the escort's harsh accent catches my attention immediately. The names are about to be picked. Ladies first this year, she says. More time for my insides to wriggle with worry.

She calls the female tribute. I don't recognize the name. A small, thin girl from the Thirteens walks forward shakily, trying to settle onstage but unable to keep herself from fussing with her braids. She's on the verge of crying. I don't see why she wouldn't be.

By the time the escort has crossed the stage, I sort of settle down, taking a deep breath as the butterflies in my stomach turn to ice. The escort makes some joke—at least, she feels the need to laugh after saying it—and pulls out a slip.

"Taner Nacar!"

I wait, stumped, as no one walks to the stage, and only start to realize what's happened when Cy turns to look at me in horror. Between the accent and the use of my given name, I failed to realize that I have just been reaped.

Inhaling sharply, I charge forwards. Just stay calm and look like you can handle this. You can. It's going to be harder not to look weak now, after that long hesitation—tch! If only I wasn't so used to being called T.R.…!

But it's all right. I'm an expert at not showing much emotion. I'm pretty small, but small tributes have won before. All that matters is that everyone sees I can handle this.

I go up the steps without faltering and take my place onstage, looking out at the crowd. Silent faces. No one's very optimistic. Admittedly, District 8 has had better chances. Seeing two tributes smaller than the escort—without taking her heels into account—with little to no musculature… It's not very reassuring. Odds are low they'll be celebrating victory and a few more morsels this year.

And that means odds are low for me individually. I won't deny it. I'm… probably going to die. I can't say I'm okay with that; I'm really not; I'm really, really not, but… I'm pretty confident I can at least win in a way. Go down without resorting to murder. What Cy hates most about the Games is all of the violence, between people who anywhere else wouldn't have a good reason to fight each other. I'm hardly any different.

Plenty have gone down without killing, though. That one boy several years back—Sadik, I think—never killed. He hinted at his morals in his interview and carried them out. He still slipped, as anyone would, but he never stooped to murder. And if he can accomplish that, so can I.

As for dealing with dying… I'll get to that when the cameras aren't on me.

**Lili Stein, District 8**

When my name is called, I start tiptoeing across the crowd. People step out of my way, but I still find myself repeating, "Excuse me." It's sort of soothing. Excuse me. Just passing through. Excuse me. Not in much of a rush, but I still need through. Excuse me. Just walking along, nothing else, nothing else, not walking to my death…

I can't fool myself for long. By the time I'm finally to the stage, I'm shaking and ready to cry. I've been reaped, and I'm going to the Hunger Games. I don't stand a chance. Even if I had a little more imposing frame, a few more years, I wouldn't be a threat. I'm too weak. I've never had a day without hunger in my life, even with Mom and Dad tripping all over themselves so I could have something to eat. But it's all for nothing now. I'm not going to starve, but I'm still going to die. And it's not even going to be a quiet, peaceful death with my family at my bedside. It'll be painful, and violent, and sudden, and bloody, and it's going to hurt all of us so much…

It's a losing battle to try to look composed. I've tried gripping the sides of my threadbare dress, but I soon resort to tampering with the tips of my braids. My hair is thick and bristly, and it pokes my fingers. It still barely distracts me, though. How could anything I can do now compare to dying?

So I try to stay still instead, so I don't look quite as hopeless to those who maybe would sponsor me, but it only makes me feel worse.

Why do I have to be so scared? Why _am _I so scared? With all that we've been through lately… I've had plenty of time to think about dying. Things have been getting worse and worse for my family, and we all know how close to starvation I've been floating. Didn't I come to terms with that, at least a little bit? What's so different about dying where everyone can see me?

Is it just because my family won't be there? Maybe that's it… Withering away is still dying, but then I would be dying by people who care, not by people who want me dead. Who may be the ones to kill me, anyway.

Come to think of it, one of the people who will want me dead is stepping onstage now. He doesn't look mean. I guess he doesn't really look nice, either, but… Maybe if he kills me, he'll make it fast? Or do I want it fast? I… I think I do. I'll be able to say my final goodbyes to my family in just a minute, so there's no reason to linger while I'm bleeding out, or-or whatever else is going to happen to me…

I've finally lost the ability to keep my tears at the edges of my eyes, but I at least make myself cry quietly. I'm not sure why. I won't be getting any sponsors, anyway. And I don't really need them, because I'll be dead so soon. But maybe… Oh, I don't know! There's no reason to hope, but I do, anyway. I have to. Or I'll just break down into a sobbing, crumpled mess, and that doesn't help anybody.

The escort tells me to shake hands with the other tribute, and I turn to comply. Hello, there, nice to meet you. Just getting to know someone new, not someone who's going to be trying to kill me in a few more days…

It's so close. It's all only just beginning, but it's so close. That must be what else is so scary about it. Starving is so gradual it's hard to tell just when your days become numbered. And there was always a little chance that maybe, just maybe, we could stumble on something and be able to afford real meals. So I could always believe I wasn't really about to die. Here… I've seen what happens in that arena; everybody has. Almost every time, nearly half of the tributes don't make it past the first day.

I know I'm going to be one of them. I certainly can't throw a punch, not with the twiggy little arms I have. And I can't run, either. I'm just too weak all around.

I'm ushered towards the Justice Building, and I try to regain my composure, just a little bit, just for my family. I can't lie and tell them I'm going to win, but I can at least look a little more hopeful. They deserve to see me in better condition than this. And I should leave them with a good image in that room.

It's the last chance I'll ever have.


	3. Dogs

**Drius Bousky, District 3**

I am escorted roughly to a room in the Justice Building, and the door is shut behind me. I am assuming it will be reopened when my family gets through the crowd to see me.

Until then, I will have to wait. Plenty of seats are available, but I would rather pace. The tiles clack underfoot as I slowly go back and forth, staring at the toes of my shoes as they move.

Everyone comes in at once. Mother, Father, Bastion. Mother and Father hold themselves back as the sobbing two-year-old stumbles forward and hugs my legs. He is a sharp kid. He cannot possibly understand what is going on, but he knows it is bad.

I pat him on the head with an exhale. Mother and Father will have to take care of him if I do not come back. His mother is dead already. It is starting to look like his father will not be far off.

Though I will not resign my life just yet. I will be fighting. I may not be as well-fed and such as the Career districts, but I am tall and barrel-chested, with a good amount of muscle for an eighteen-year-old. I have not trained, but I can throw a good enough punch to knock out. That, and people do not tend to mess with me. It seems I tend to be rather intimidating.

On the other hand, I should not overestimate my chances. I am still going to the Hunger Games, and it takes no genius to crunch the numbers. One chance in twenty-four I come home, and that is only if it is all even.

The most important thing I must do is play by the rules. The Games are, though they deny it, about the power of the Capitol and their desires. We tributes are to entertain. Just dogs in a circus. They say bark seven times, we bark seven times, and they give us sugar.

I intend to win, so I will do what they want. I will behave. I will kill. I will do what I have to to ensure that Bastion will not be an orphan. That I will be around as he grows, to teach him, to support him. I would do anything for that.

Bastion will not let go, so I pick him up and backpedal to one of the couches. Mother and Father sit on either side of us.

"Drius," Mother starts quietly. "We believe you can do this."

Father nods. "Just listen to your mentor, and be ready to perform for the sponsors."

I look them in the eye one by one, and they sense my acceptance without words.

"And," Mother continues, dropping her gaze, "if something does happen…" She has to take a deep breath before she can go on. "We will take good care of Bastion. I can say that with certainty."

I nod.

Bastion has started to settle in my lap. He is more comfortable now. No air of anxiety, no swarms of Peacekeepers, no sign of anything strange other than the environment. But he will panic again when he has to leave. I have never left him for more than a day, so I do not know how he will react to this. No contact with me, no sight of me other than on a television screen. And perhaps he will have to watch me be killed.

No, he would look away. He cannot stand screaming and tries to hide from it whenever it rings around the living room. I do not need to worry about that.

And I trust that Mother and Father would do a good job in raising him. Things will be taken care of if I die.

But that will not be my excuse. That will not be my solace until my last breath, if I breathe it in that arena. Bastion does need me.

And I will make sure I will be there for him.

**Shaye Selles, District 3**

I walk carefully to the couch as the Peacekeepers close the door behind me. Taking a seat right in its centre, I draw a deep breath and try not to dig my nails into the fabric. Although it looks like that's already been done. You'd think with all the freaking-out tributes they shove in here, the place would be ripped to shreds.

I suddenly lean on the couch's back, my neck thumping into the cushion. Just have to sit here for a minute. Just long enough to let my family come in and make me want to cry more. Lovely. I can't afford to lose my composure now, and all of that jazz. Because I may not be one of those typical D3 scrawny kids, but I'm no tank. I'm not getting any sponsors if I break down crying every time I'm on camera.

The door opens, and I hold my breath, smiling as my parents enter.

"Hey, guys," I start, not at all acting like this could easily be the last time I'll see them.

"Hey, Honey," Mom says, about to break into tears herself but able to bite them back.

Dad looks like he's already done his crying. "Hey, Shaye." He takes a seat next to me and puts an arm behind my shoulders. "You're going to fight your best out there?"

"Definitely." Why wouldn't I? I'm going to be scared, of course, but that doesn't mean I'm not planning on doing my share of tail-kicking.

Whether or not I'll actually be able to, well, we'll have to see about that. Like I said, I'm not one of those crazy-big people that do the heavy lifting in the factories—though from the look of it, my district partner's one—and I have zilch training in any weapon other than steak knives, and those I haven't used against people. But I think I can fare all right in the wilderness. I've read a lot of survival books and stuff, so I should be better off than at least some of the other guys. As for fighting, there are those couple of days in the Training Centre. They have to work, since there's no way some of those kids could use the weapons they had in the arena otherwise.

"We'll be cheering for you every step of the way, all right?" Mom says, squeezing my hand.

"I know," I reply quietly. "I'll remember that, okay? I'll be fighting for you guys as much as I'm fighting for me."

We get just a moment longer together, not knowing what else to say, before the Peacekeeper comes back in and tells them it's time to leave. I catch a tear snaking down my cheek as they go out the door with "goodbye"s and "we love you"s, and I echo them tightly.

Not crying right now. The cameras are going to be on me soon. Just breathe… That doesn't have to be the last time you see them… Just breathe…

I've made the tears stop when the door opens again. It's my latest ex-boyfriend. _Wonderful_.

"Ah… Hello," he starts awkwardly, sitting next to me but not too close.

"Hey," I respond, voice neutral. "What are you here for?"

"Well—to talk, what else?"

"Okay. Talk."

He exhales before starting, "You do have a good chance, all right? I think Wiress proved that you don't have to be a bodybuilder to pull it off. But…" He draws his heavy brows together. "The Careers are really going to be after you. I imagine they still want revenge for the last Games they lost, so they'll be focusing on District 3. So… I know you already know this, but be careful, don't get near them…" An awkward smile. "Even if you still hate me, I want to see you come out of there alive, all right?"

"Okay… Thanks…" Actual helpful advice from him. Who woulda thunk it? He's bossing me around as always, but it's not so much like I'm just some dog on his leash this time. Gosh, if he usually acted like this, maybe I wouldn't have broken it off.

He's pulled back out of the room by Peacekeepers, and I try to relax. So… Avoiding the Careers… I guess I shouldn't go towards the Cornucopia, then…

The door squeaks in motion again, and I reopen my eyes. And entering the room now is my _first _ex-boyfriend. Yeah, started dating him the day before my seventeenth birthday, and I'm not even eighteen yet. What horrible luck I have with guys, huh?

He sits next to me with his usual amount of reserve—meaning none—and our legs brush together before I pointedly scoot away.

"What do you want?" I grumble, patience already thin.

"It's your final goodbye, isn't it?" he says, leaning too close to me. "I just wanted to make it a good one…"

His head comes forwards for a kiss. I duck, grab his arm, wrench it around his back, and throw him to the ground.

"Get out."

He moans, pushing himself up, and I grab him by the back of his shirt to haul him to his feet and kindly direct him to the door. The Peacekeeper's actually on my side this time; she gets him out of the room before he can even look back.

That—stupid—son of a gun… Have no idea why I ever dated him.

But, on the bright side, it'll be a lot easier to bash the other tributes around if I just imagine his sorry face.


	4. I'll Return

**Turk Adnan, District 7**

This is my first time in the Justice Building. It's not that nice. There's no decoration but a wooden sculpture of a tree—kind of redundant—and scratchy, fibrous covers for the couch and seats. It's not very comfortable, either.

The situation's not all that comfortable, either, of course. Reaped. I'm probably not as worried about dying as I should be, but I think I have a pretty good chance. I'm just sixteen, but I'm strong enough from general District 7 labor. And I have a brother who's not much younger than me, so I know how to fistfight. Honestly, the Games might be kind of fun. I like a good scuffle, and there'll be plenty to be had.

As for the whole killing thing… Not so enthusiastic about that. I'll be able to if it comes down to it, I think, but there's no need to get too caught up in it. That's what the Careers do, and they're not the most admired, jovial people. I'm going to have fun with this. It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and most of it's not going to be too pleasant, so I should enjoy what I can.

I don't hear the door open since the whole building's creaking a little from the wind, but at some point my family comes in. Since I'm in one of the chairs, Heracles sits in a chair and Dad takes the couch.

No Mom, of course. She died three years ago, when a tree fell at the wrong time. …I was around. I think Heracles blames me for it. He's not completely wrong.

"So," Dad starts after a second of silence, "do you think you're ready for this?"

I cross my legs. "Ready enough," I respond without much thought.

"Good." He exhales. "I think you can handle it, too, all right? Just try to get a weapon, because you'll need one against the Careers."

"Will do, Pop."

We fall into silence again for a second, and I scratch my head. My fingers bump into my hat, and I slip it off and stare at it for a second.

"Hats aren't usually the best district tokens, don't you think?" I start, turning it over in my hands.

"Probably not," Dad replies, leaning forwards as I hand it to him. "Too big to worry about, maybe."

Man. I like that hat, too. And my coat. But I don't think they'd let me bring the coat, and the hat would probably fall off at just the wrong time. And if I lost it, I'd probably get depressed and/or killed looking for it, so let's not do that.

"But then you have no district token," my brother finally starts.

"Not everyone has a district token," I reply. "And there's not too much around here, so…"

Heracles pauses for a minute, looking at me. "Maybe you could ask them not to shave your face."

I grin. "Stubble as a district token, huh? I might just try to get away with that."

"Worth a shot," Dad says. He hesitates. "I'm guessing you don't want us to give you any momentous last words, since that makes it seem like it has to be a permanent goodbye."

"Hmm. About right," I reply, leaning against the chair back. "We're just chatting before I go off to compete, that's all. I'll be back in a month or two."

Heracles looks at me sideways. "Not if you don't fight any better than usual."

"Oi! What's that supposed to mean?" I respond, getting to my feet. "You don't think I'm strong enough?"

He shrugs nonchalantly. "You don't hit that hard when you're fighting me, is all."

"Well, if I'm fighting _you_, I don't _need_ to hit very hard!"

"Is that right?" He stands slowly.

"Uh-huh. You want me to fight you full-power, Dad'll have to drag you out!"

"Try it."

Just as I'm drawing in, Dad pulls me back.

"Aw, come on!" I protest, though I don't jerk my way out.

"Turk, not now, all right?" Dad sighs, taking his hand away. "It's the… last time you'll be able to see him in a while."

"All the better reason to leave him with a shiner or two!"

"Oh, sit back down."

With an exaggerated sigh, I comply. Heracles gives me a sly little "good thing he saved you from getting beat up" look and sits down as well.

"Time's up."

Having forgot where I was for a minute there, I look over my shoulder as the Peacekeeper steps closer. My family gets back up and walks before he can force them.

"See you later, Turk," Dad says just before he leaves. "Good luck."

"Thanks. See you!" I call.

Heracles just waves as the door closes on them both.

**Holland Mogens, District 7**

The Peacekeeper leads me to my room in the Justice Building and guards the door. I sit silently on the couch and smooth out my dress slacks. My whole outfit's a bit dishevelled from being escorted here roughly. Maybe I can get it all straightened out before my family comes in.

I finish adjusting my collar by the time the door opens.

"Holly—!" With a cry, Belgium is the first to rush in, hugging me on contact. Mildly amused by the fact this musses my collar, I silently hug her back.

She's only able to back away to let the other three in the family have their turns. As Belgium sits at the far end of the couch, Mom embraces me. She takes one of the chairs as Dad steps up. Finally, he takes the second chair, and Luxem hugs me briefly. Instead of sitting down next to me, he pauses in front to dig through a coat pocket. After a moment, he retrieves my tulip pin.

"Thought this would make a good district token, in case—" he looks down—"this happened."

Luxem glances back at the pin before saying, "Oh!" and wiping some dirt off it with his sleeve. "Sorry. I dropped it in the garden on the way out."

He presents it again, and I carefully attach it to my blouse's collar with a thanks. Luxem sits down next to me, and there's a minute of distressed silence.

"H-Holly?" Belgium starts again, sniffling. "You're going to win, right?"

I nod. "I don't see any other option."

"Right. Because you h-have to win..." She trails off, stifling sobs, and Luxem pats her on the back.

"Don't worry, Bel," Mom says quietly before turning to me with a smile. "Your sister can handle this. Holland, you know you can handle this, don't you?"

I interlace my fingers. "Yes."

"At the same time," Dad puts in, "don't think it's going to be too easy. You know what happens to tributes who think like that." He crosses his arms. "You're going to have to do some bad things, but know we'll be supporting you the entire way."

In tears, Belgium assents, and Mom and Luxem aren't far behind her.

I close my eyes. "Thanks."

We don't say much more until time is called. Then, another emotional round of hugs, and I'm left alone. I don't think anyone else is going to visit me. I interact with a lot of people, but I'd hardly call them friends. Espan is probably stupid enough to try and visit me, but I'll beat the crap out of him if he tries to walk in here. And then my cannabis man was gunned down in the black market raid a few months ago, so he won't be coming. Poor guy. Always let me haggle him to next to nothing, and rolled the best smoking sticks in the district.

But what's done is done, I guess. Rest in peace, Marion. Hopefully I won't have to join you soon.

I'd say I have a good enough chance to get out alive. I won't be any competition for Careers, but plenty of that type have won before. I'm tall, but not muscular enough to attract Career attention. Not muscular enough to throw around big axes, but I can still use smaller ones. I can certainly hold my own in a fistfight, but I've never killed anyone that way.

Ah, killing. I hear that part's unpleasant.

"Time to go to the train."

I glance over at the Peacekeeper and then follow her outside. Here I meet up with my district partner again. He doesn't seem any more shaken by this than me, although he's more energetic about it.

"Hey! I'm Turk." He extends a hand to shake. "Your name was... Holly, right?"

"Holland." After a pause, I shake.

"Ah, sorry." He pauses and then exclaims, pointing at my pin. "I have one of those! From the nice tulip lady, right?"

I glance at his hand. "You mean my mother?"

"Uh?" He blinks, withdrawing his pointing finger. "Really, she's your mom? Huh. So, that's your token?"

"Yes."

Turk nods in understanding. "Yeah, I wasn't sure what to do for mine, so..." And he goes on and on as we step up to the station.

This is going to be a wonderful train ride.


	5. My World

**Florry Raman, District 5**

The train is a very neat place. With the nice television and the nice bed and the nice bathrooms… In my home, we do not have such luxury. There is a room for me and my two sisters, a room for my parents, a bathroom, and a room for cooking and eating. That is all.

Here, it is much nicer place. I have a room all to myself with all of these neat little trinkets to play with while I lie on the bed.

Unfortunately, I also have an escort to tell me when to leave.

"Floor," the escort barks, thumping on the door once, "it's supper." He stomps away.

With a sigh, I roll off the nice bed and start for the door. I'm really sort of full from lunch, but I'm sure it will be worth it.

Walking lightly down the hallway, I run into my district partner. I am not completely sure what her name is, since our escort is the kind to mispronounce, but I believe it starts with a "sh."

"Hello," I start, bowing my head, "and how are you today?"

"Ah…" She hesitates as she rubs something away from the corner of her eye. "I'm doing well enough, thank you." She bites her lip a little bit and continues walking towards the meal car. I walk along with her.

"Were you crying or something?" I start.

She cringes before straightening up. "To be honest, a bit. The situation's rather worrying, don't you think?"

I smile. "Not for me. Why would you cry? Are you scared because you're going to die?" I laugh. "I'm not worried about that."

She frowns before exhaling. "You're not taking this very seriously, are you?" She shakes her head. "But then I suppose it's really none of my business. I'll let you be."

And with that, we enter the dining room. I can't see where our escort went, but our Victors are seated already. The youngest one, while busy drinking from a glass, waves in greeting as we take our seats. He won quite a few years ago, but he's only three years older than me and four years older than the sh girl. Our two other Victors are much older.

It's so interesting to really see them in person. Unlike me, they've been all over the country.

"Hello, good evening," I start, sitting down. "It is an honor to meet you all."

"Nice to meet you, too," the young one says and nods at the girl, too.

"Have you spent much time in District 9?" I ask.

"Eh?" He ducks to his side as a waiter gives him a plate. "I've been there on tours and stuff, but I haven't hung around."

"But you've been there," I say, closing my eyes. "You are lucky."

Instead of talking, he takes a bite of his first part of the meal.

"I always wanted to go to District 9," I continue. "There are so many opportunities that I don't have here in District 5. And they love their chemicals like they should there."

He nods slowly as my district partner and the female Victor start talking. Since he doesn't know where to take the conversation, I go on.

"Did you know God was a chemist?"

He pauses to swallow a mouthful. "No?"

"Well, that's dumb!" I laugh. "He is a chemist. He made all of the elements and then he didn't know what to do with them. So he smashed them together. And it went from there."

"Uh, okay…"

"You don't believe me?"

He takes another bite of food to stall. "No, I believe you…"

With a wistful sigh, I consider explaining this to our other male Victor, but he is too busy getting drunk. It looks like I will still have to talk with the other one for now.

"So what is it like being a Victor?" I start. "You must feel like a horrible person for murdering someone."

He just freezes, and I sample my food while I am waiting. It is nice. It's not spicy enough for me, though.

"What, you don't like my question?" I shrug. "It's okay. If you don't want to really tell me, just make it up like Capitol news."

He just swallows, opens his mouth for a second, and then sighs, going back to his food. "Let's… not talk about that if we don't have to, all right?"

I smile. "Okay."

**Chanelle Monaco, District 5**

Not counting the obvious, today hasn't been too awful. The showers and other facilities are superb, and the food thus far has been no less exquisite.

I know I should be enjoying this while yet I may, but it's all just too worrisome. Just to think, twenty-three other tributes eating perhaps this same meal on their trains, speaking with their own mentors, forming their own plans for the Games… The Careers will undoubtedly be plotting my demise. Other forward-thinking tributes will be doing the same. And then there will be those who have overlooked my tiny frame completely and only ruminate on the others. And then the terrified young ones, weak ones, who are more concerned about my killing them.

Perhaps that's unfounded, and perhaps it's not. I can't imagine myself killing any of them in cold blood, but for my life, my parents, my big brother… Maybe. I'd really rather not think about it, but that inevitably means I'll only think about it more. I'm just terrible, absolutely terrible, at not worrying over every little trifle. And in a world like this one, where those in power wish for things to go horribly wrong for me and everyone around me… It's a wonder I don't have heart attacks on a daily basis.

I alternate between savouring the food and spinning my token in my hand under the table. It's surprisingly enough to distract myself. Of course, immersing myself in schoolwork could do the trick as well, back home.

I wonder how they're doing back there now. Joan, my brother's girlfriend, and her family were going to celebrate surviving the reaping with us, but… We didn't quite survive the reaping, now, did we? They'll likely still come over, though, to console us. They should all be eating right about now. The meal we so carefully saved up for in the previous months, now eaten silently, without focus, with one share ending up extra…

Oh, don't let them be too worried… I'm worried enough for them. What's going to happen to them after all of this? If I win, we'll be in a great financial situation, but I'll be broken. If I lose, which I must admit is more likely, what would they do? Well, they would at least know not to spend too much money on me out there, would they not? Or would they truly bet on me, with my odds? I would definitely need a lot of support to win, but… Oh…

The next course is served with a chorus of clacking porcelain. I do my best to distract myself with it.

"You okay?"

I jump a bit at the voice before sliding my gaze up to Myrona. My mentor, I suppose. Bah! I have her to talk to! Why waste my time fretting when I could do something to augment my chances of success?

"Ah, yes, I'm all right," I start, tucking behind my ear a strand of light hair that snuck out of its braid. "Just worried, but I'm sure everyone is." Aside from my district partner, who seems to be trying to convince his mentor that God is a chemist.

"Well, they should be." Her lips stretch into a smile as she struggles to drink from a glass with shaking hands. "Helps keep you on your toes. But if I can help with some of it, let me know."

I nod. "I think I'll be less worried if I'm more prepared. Have you any advice?"

"Hmm…" She takes a bite of food while she's pondering. "Depends on you, really. You a good runner?"

"I'm not far beyond the ordinary, I'm afraid."

"All right, well, you'll really have to push it at the bloodbath. After that, I'd advise you to hide wherever you can. It'll probably be a good strong spot for you since you're so small. Maybe check out the camouflage at the Training Centre, too." She smacks her lips. "Any other strengths you have?"

Trying to find something, I start twirling my district token again as I concentrate. "Um… I do participate in ballet, but…"

Myrona waves at the air, as if she were swatting my dubiousness away. "You probably have pretty good pain tolerance, then, right? That'll be useful. And I'm sure you could perform a bit for the cameras, if you like. You'd stand out."

"Yes… I suppose so." I give her a light smile before my token suddenly flies out of my shifting grasp.

"Oh—!"

I start to reach over for it, but a waiter zooms by and scoops it off the floor before I get far. I accept it, reddening a bit. "Thank you. I'm terribly sorry about that."

He just shrugs it off and glides back to the water pitchers.

"That your token?" Myrona asks before I can get it back below the table.

"Yes." I set it to the side of my glass and spin it slowly so she can see the spade, diamond, club, and heart painted around the little wooden ball. "For good luck, superstitious as it may sound."

Another stretched-out smile. "Need all the luck you can get to be a Victor."

"I suppose that's true."


	6. Moving Right Along

**Zavann Liu, District 9**

I'm watching a commercial for travelling to old arenas when there's a knock on the door.

"Coming!"

After some fumbling to get the TV back off, I hurry to the door and open it.

"Sorry to keep you waiting! What is it?"

"Ah, Zavann," the young escort says like he's practising my name. He points with both thumbs to his left. "They're getting ready to serve the meal over there, so head over when you can."

"Okay, I'll be right there. Thank you!"

"No prob."

I run over to the bedside, put my shoes back on, and hurry back to the door. From there, I turn right and hurry to where I know the dining car is. It's set up already, but only the escort is already here. I nod in greeting and, after deciding the chair in one of the tight corners is good enough for me, seat myself.

It's only a minute before Dell enters the room. She smiles nervously before opting to sit next to me. I wonder if we're going to be allies. I only know her from a few classes in school, and she wasn't the loudest, but I do know her. And I can't just let a girl I know go out in the arena alone. I don't know just how much help I'd be, but surely I can do something.

"How are you?" I start as she scoots her chair in.

"I'm doing well enough, thanks." She shuffles her hands through her hair, making the short curls quiver. "How about you?"

"I'm all right." Before I can decide what next to say, one of our Victors steps in. He's staggering a little already, but he's not too drunk to give us a wave and sit down without falling over.

"Hello," I respond with a smile. He doesn't reply, but that's okay. I wouldn't want to talk much, either, if I went through what he did.

I guess I will be going through some of it. I'll have to take this seriously, but I can't think on it too much. If I freak out or start acting grumpy, it doesn't help anyone else. And most of the time, I just want to help people out. That doesn't go very well with the Hunger Games, but I'll do what I can.

I start to chat with Dell about some of the things that have happened to our school recently, and then the meal comes out. It's some sort of orange soup with little black flecks. I have no idea what to compare its taste to, but it's good. The chefs must have worked hard on this.

Just when I'm starting to think that wasn't that big a meal, the waiters come around and serve us another one. It's also a small plate, but the little chunks of meat are really good.

And the plates just keep coming. I don't think I could eat this much in a day. Maybe after a day of mountain-climbing, but not after a day of standing in a crowd and then watching television. I'm stuffed before what seems to be dessert comes around. That's okay. I don't usually get dessert, anyway.

As the escort, who's had a bit too much to drink now but in a more cheerful way than the Victor, starts talking loudly to the Victor, Dell gets my attention.

"Liu?" she starts. We're more familiar with our last names than first, since our physics teacher always calls us by them. "Are we going to be allies?"

"Sure!" I smile. "If that's what you want, I'll be happy to tackle all of this with you."

She smiles back. "Okay, good. From what I know of you, I think you'll be a good ally."

"Thanks." I take a sip of drink. "I'm only fourteen, but you think I'm strong enough, right?"

"Well, I'm only a year older." Her teeth show in a fleeting smile.

"Really?" I react before I know what I'm saying. "Er—! Not that you look really old or anything—"

"Relax." She laughs. "I know I look older, and that's not really that bad a thing just yet. Maybe it'll make me seem more likely to win somehow—who knows?"

"Yeah."

The waiters come by to take our last plates and silverware. Before they're gone, our escort announces in the sort of loud voice only alcohol could induce in him, "Meal's over, go to your rooms or something." He staggers off laughing, and our Victor seems to have fallen asleep on the tablecloth. Dell and I are left to stare after him awkwardly.

Dell suddenly bursts out laughing. "I guess we'd better get going then, huh?"

"Yes, I guess so."

She gets up but waits. "Do you want to go watch the reapings in the same room? Check out the, uh, competition together?"

I squirm out of my chair. "Sure."

**Anissa Dell, District 9**

I end up leading Liu to my room for the recaps. I sort of left my glasses on the bed stand since I had just woken up from a nap at dinnertime, so I had to come back, anyway.

I put my spectacles back on while Liu fiddles with the remote to find the right channel. He stays on the little backless couch at the foot of the bed while I sit propped up on a mountain of pillows.

We came in on a showing of our district's reaping. I'm already onstage, my face drained of colour but my mouth and tear ducts shut tight. Liu—Zavann, I guess, is his first name, but I'm more used to Liu, and he doesn't seem to mind—is called up. An ill look comes over his horse-like face before he shakes it off and steps up. The television shows us shaking hands before switching to a screen that reads "District 10."

The male is called first here. He was obviously completely unprepared to be reaped, even though he's coming from the Seventeens. The poor kid's panicking and crying all over the place. I can't see how anyone would be able to kill him.

Well, I guess I can. It's still hard to believe how horrible things are here, but we kids do end up killing each other. It seems completely wrong, but can it be justified? Is there a way to say my life is worth more somehow than the one I'm trying to kill? It is so much better if it's just self-defence? The Games give us all of these questions with no good answers. If only we didn't have to ask them in the first place…

The 10 girl, whose name I missed, comes onstage and gets my attention right off. Barking for her district partner to quit snivelling and stand up straight, she faces the audience unwaveringly, folding her arms with more-than-Career-worthy musculature. If we meet in the arena, I won't have to worry about _me_ killing _her_, that's for sure.

From 11 comes a thick eighteen and a lighter-skinned girl. 12 has two average ones from the middle of the age spectrum. 1 and 2 seem to have the usual Careers, though neither of the girls looks as strong as usual. 3 has a large boy and dark-skinned girl. Careers from 4. Liu and I agree neither of the Fives looks very strong. 6 has an undaunted girl and a small, expressionless boy. The 7 girl is just as unaffected, while her district partner seems a bit surprised but not scared. More smaller ones from 8, and then it's back to us.

"So, what do you think?" Liu starts, leaning back.

"Well…" I cross my legs, trying to remember I'm judging my competition, not just watching the next batch of sorry souls. "We'll still have our Career pack, so watch out for them. Maybe the 10 girl will join up with them, if she wants… Or the 3 boy, or possibly the 11 boy. We'll have to watch out for all of them either way." I sigh, leaning back into the pillows. "Of course, we'll have to watch out for _everyone_ either way."

"That sounds right to me." He sets the remote down and leans against the couch's arm. "Did you want to try to be allies with any of them?"

I bite the inside of my lip. "Oh, I don't know. What do you think?"

"Whatever you want to do is fine with me." He turns a bit so I can see him smile.

"All right, then." I shift my legs. "I guess… I'd rather not. More people would be stronger, but I wouldn't be very comfortable with people I don't know."

Liu turns more, swinging his legs to the other side of the couch. "You don't know me that well."

"I know you better than them, though."

"Okay."

He's still smiling. And where we're going, I don't think there's much I need more than a familiar smile.**  
**


	7. All Prettied Up

**Riben Wang, District 6**

"Can ya calm down a little? Your face's turned so red I can't tell how much blush you need."

As it's currently taking the majority of my willpower just to stay still, I can't quite comply. Between having to stay naked in front of others and the revealing outfit I've been made to wear, I can't… I just… It's too much for me…

Why is this even necessary? I can't have looked bad enough to warrant all of that, and I don't understand why I'm wearing so little when I don't look strong, not even by thirteen-year-old standards. I just look like a skinny kid wearing a swimsuit covered with pills, and I'm all exposed, and I—can't—do—this…

"Please," I finally dare to start, though I haven't said a word here until now, "if it's at all possible, may I wear something more than this?"

The stylist gives me a weird look. "What do ya mean, more? I promise ya, nothing's showing. And it's going to be kinda hot today, so I didn't prepare a shirt."

But I could stand a little heat. I just… There's nothing I could say, is there? She'll dress me up however she wants, and I'm helpless to resist. Of course I am.

My sister must have been, too, with the kind of outfit they made her wear. She may not have liked violence, but she would still stand up for herself. But I guess that didn't work here, and it didn't work in the arena, either.

Nor will it work for me. I could resort to the hateful and backstabbing violence that always comes out in the Games, but how could I let myself become exactly what she hated? It would be a disgrace to her memory. No, I don't plan on hurting anyone. That's certain to cost me my life, but how much more of a chance would violence give me, anyway? With my lack of strength and skill, it might buy me an extra day. That's not at all worth my honor.

…Or, whatever of it I'll have left after this chariot ride. I know, given the rest of my situation, it's a bit ridiculous to be this worried about modesty, but… I can't help it. This all feels so wrong.

And I'm going to be paraded in front of people, too. I'm uncomfortable around other people, and for there to be so many of them, all around me… I don't know how I'm going to be able to handle that. I'll just focus on one of the screens, I guess. Make it all seem like just another Games on television. I'm at least used to those.

I wish I wasn't. They would be bad enough if my sister hadn't died in them. But that's all I'm able to think about when I think of the Games. I never actually saw her die, but the people on TV talked about it, and when her coffin came back my parents talked to me about it.

I never saw any more than that wooden box, actually. When we were going to have her funeral, I locked myself in my room and refused to leave. That ended up lasting… for a while…

But I never did see her body. By now, of course, I've accepted that she's dead, but back then, that helped me pretend she would come back soon. That she would just return from school one day and call me from the kitchen to help her get started making supper. It's childish, but I've still kind of been hoping for that…

That's never going to happen, but I'll see her soon enough. I-I have to die first, but… But then I'll finally see her again, and we can talk and cook and… I don't know. Will we really? Will I even still be somewhere after I die?

But I know my sister still has to be somewhere, and she's dead, so I'll be the same somewhere, too, right? Will there be things to cook there? Will I be able to talk to her? Will I… even be able to see her?

…And my greatest comfort in all of this isn't in the least bit a sure thing…

"There we go!"

My heart jumps a little at the suddenness before I remember where I am. Still in the Remake Centre, where the stylist is carefully scrutinizing my face. I can't let myself zone out like this in the arena, or I'll be dead at the bloodbath. Except that's a good thing? Or would it make China too sad to see me die that soon? Oh…

I just swallow my questions again and try not to focus on my outfit as I'm guided back out the door.

**Romania Viorel, District 6**

Apparently my teeth are giving these stylist ladies a lot of trouble. They managed to clean and whiten them fine, but now they've got my mouth pried open while they argue about my canines. Apparently fang-like teeth aren't that cool in the Capitol. Tasteless people.

Just about the time my jaw really starts aching, they decide there's not enough time or something and let me go. I wobble my jaw around.

Good. Leave them alone. They could probably give me an advantage in the arena. Like, I could bite out somebody's throat. That would be cool. Hehe.

The stylists move on to my hair. I guess dark blonde isn't good enough for them, either, since they start brushing on goop.

"We're just putting in a little colour to bring out the red in your hair," the tallest one informs me.

That doesn't make much sense to me, but okay. Do whatever you want; I'm not really going anywhere. As long as I don't come out of here bald or with a freaky skin colour like you guys, I'll be all right with it.

I've never been that caught up in my appearance. I mean, I'll make sure I don't look freaky, and I'll usually put on a cool hat or something, but I keep my hair short and out of the way, and I don't preen in the mirror for forever like not-dirt-poor sixteen-year-old girls are apparently supposed to do. I have better things to do, you know?

Like watch some Hunger Games reruns. I have to admit, they're pretty cool. Sure, it's really not a good thing to make a bunch of kids kill each other, but it happens, so you might as well have a little fun with it. And all of the blood and torture and stuff is naturally pretty fun, so it's not too hard. And I'll actually be in the middle of it!

Of course, that also kind of means I could die. Not so thrilled about that. And killing other people really isn't very nice, but what else could I do out there, you know? Like I said, if you can't get out of it, at least have some fun with it. Being depressed won't do anyone much good.

The stylists fool with my hair for a while longer and, after plucking some eyebrow hairs, decide I'm suitable. They call in the main guy and exit.

The awkwardness goes up a little more with a male in the room where I'm still kind of naked, but I manage it. It looks like he brought my outfit, anyway. Oh, and I don't think it's one of those poofy, pill-shaped costumes this year. Sweet.

He doesn't say much—understandable, since it seems kind of difficult for him to speak—but dresses me up. Apparently I'm going to go swimming, but I have to bring a bunch of pills with me, and since I don't have pockets I just glued them all to the swimsuit. Pfft. The things these people come up with. It does look kind of cool, but still.

He brushes on a good deal of makeup and touches up my hair with weird-looking scissors. And then we're done. I thought this session was supposed to be longer than the last one. Benefits of a simple costume, I guess.

I look myself over in the mirror. Not too bad. Aside from the bright blue eyelids that match the swimsuit, I think he did a pretty satisfactory job. My middle showing is a little weird since I'm not used to it, but I'm not fat—and I don't have abs, which look really weird on girls—so it looks fine. Same with my thighs. Not any well-defined muscle, but not flabby.

I walk out the door after confirming I'm not supposed to be wearing any shoes. Apparently my feet are too pretty. Ohh-kay, then. Well, better watch my step, considering I'll be going to a room with a bunch of horses.

I meet up with my district partner before we go off to the stable floor.

"Hey," I start, leaning over a little so we're almost eye-to-eye, "don't frown like that—you're making me depressed! This is going to be fun, so we should be more cheerful, don't you think?"

Riben blinks slowly. "I'm sorry, but I don't smile."

I stand back up. Gosh, serious thing for such a little guy…

There's only a moment of awkward silence before we're led away.


	8. Uncomfortable

**Egypt Hassan, District 12**

This is rather humiliating.

Contrary to what my stylist wanted, I'm currently squatting near the middle of the chariot trying to keep my balance. My arms are crossed loosely and resting on my thighs. It may not be as triumphant a pose as Tolemius planned, but it's a bit more comfortable. Though when I'm wearing nothing but coal dust, no pose can really be that comfortable.

At least the ride is smooth. It wouldn't look good for me to fall over.

And I don't want to do anything to lose sponsors. Normally it's sort of a hopeless situation for District 12, but since we got a Victor recently, people have their eyes on us a bit more.

Right now I'd prefer not to have so many eyes on me. The video screens are showing us at the moment as well. I do catch one cameraman not turned towards us, though. He must have missed the news flash.

I just continue to stare vacantly into the crowd. The mishmash of colours is an eyesore, but I should at least acknowledge the Capitolians' presence. They'll be responsible for my well-being, after all.

Some of it, at least. The Gamemakers and other tributes will be trying to end me, and I'll be responsible for my own health when it comes to that. I think I'll be able to handle it all right. I have a decent amount of muscle, not enough for looks but enough for strength. I'm familiar with a few kinds of medicinal herbs and edible plants. I've never hunted animals, as it's illegal, but hopefully I can pick up something from the Training Centre.

I'll also have to fend off other tributes. That will be more difficult.

But I have to come home. For my parents, all my brothers… I don't want them to get hurt by this any more than necessary. They mean too much to me.

I move my eyes to see the television screens. They've moved on to District 1. The boy is decked out in rubies, while the girl is in an especially skimpy—with good results, admittedly—ruby-and-sapphire gown. Both from District 2 are in marble-design jumpsuits with their faces painted to match. The District 3 boy is some sort of smokestack, while the black fuzz around his district partner must be intended to look like smoke. Both from 4 are in fish scale outfits, while both from District 5 are power plant workers.

District 6 has matching pill-covered swimsuits. The girl from 7 is a solid tree, and the boy has a simple outfit with wood print and a few leaves in his hair. The 8 kids are some sort of looms, and the 9s are wearing plain clothes that glow neon green. The 10 boy is a chicken, and his district partner is a bull—I feel like, given their builds, their stylists may have switched for this year. The boy and girl from 11 are sheaves of wheat.

Maybe it's odd to call all of them kids when, being sixteen, I'm younger than a lot of them. But that's what they are. We're all just kids, out here to kill each other.

Sighing internally, I look away before the screens are back on Yana and me.

By now, my district partner is sort of huddled up, too. It looks like this is difficult for her. The Games aren't going to be much better, considering how thin she is.

Maybe it would be good to go in protecting her. But it wouldn't be realistic. I don't know her. It doesn't matter how scared she looks; she could easily turn on me. And I would have to turn on her, eventually. I'd rather stay alone, even if that brings some more struggles.

Right. I'll have to be realistic here. Secure sponsors, do what I have to. Try to only be distracted by thoughts of my family when I'm sure I'm safe for a moment. And kill. However that's going to work out.

The chariots come to a stop—my weight rocks to my heels for a moment—at the City Circle. The president gives his speech.

I just close my eyes for a minute, hoping all eyes have shifted to Snow. I'll be a moving object in another minute, so I'll enjoy the lack of attention while I can.

I'm not normally this much of a loner. I don't talk much, but I do have a few friends. This is all from the circumstances now. I won't be making any friends here.

I balance carefully as the horses start moving again.

**Yana Sappe, District 12**

I am ridiculously naked right now. My regards to the stylists. And, yes, that was sarcastic. Really, really sarcas—Augh! I know we're supposed to be on display, but we're also supposed to be impressing people! And it's really hard to do that when you're… Ugh!

Okay, I should really work on being less freaked out. Which right now is about as difficult as calculus—which I haven't had the chance to take yet, but I hear it's really hard—but I'll have to give it a shot.

Deep breaths. Right. Some looks at the audience. It's pretty entertaining. There are a whole lot of weird hairstyles. If I get the chance, I might have to try out some for laughs. It'd have to be a while, though, since my hair's boy-short. Or maybe I could just get a wig. Or steal our escort's. Haha…

And look, they're not even all looking over here. Right now, a lot of attention is focused on the chariot just ahead of us. I'm not completely sure what the Elevens are doing. Some bizarre series of poses. It really is sort of amusing. I bet the sponsors love that.

We're not going to be doing that over here, though. My district partner hasn't budged since he found a decent pose, and I'm still not very comfortable.

Hopefully the sponsors will be willing to throw a little money our way, anyway. Egypt'll probably get more than me, just because he's not a scrawny Seam kid like me. Well, judging from his colouring, he probably came from a Seam family, but I haven't really run into him before. Who knows, maybe he is Seam.

Wonder what kind of job he takes up, then, if he's as decently-fed as he looks. Both of my parents are in the mines, and I scrounge up a little more money making clay bowls, but we don't do too well. We at least figured we could make it three more years until I'm sent to the mines, though.

But… I guess we don't have to worry about that much more, huh? If I make it, I'll get to move into a swanky place by Haymitch's, and if I don't, well, yeah. I don't like to think about that too much.

And I also don't like to think about what I'm going to have to do in a few days. And I also don't like to think about where I am right now, since I'm still kind of _naked_!

Sorry.

Also, I really hope none of this is coming off with my sweat, because it's really pretty hot out here. Oh, gosh. I guess that would add some interesting designs.

I stand still as we come to a stop at the City Circle. The president is ready to speak, while more Capitolians peek out of—what were they called again?—balconies.

I watch the television screens as he gives the annual welcome speech. Even though it's only showing the headshots of the tributes this time around, we still look the worst. All grimy and whatnot. Some of the others may have weird makeup, but at least they don't look like something just exploded in their faces.

The screens linger on us a little bit until the speech finishes up. I'm sort of huddled up by now, so I'm careful not to fall when the horses start going again. It's not all that sudden, anyway. I don't have much experience with horses, but these guys have probably walked this route for years. They won't be doing anything crazy.

I don't make any efforts to wave or react to the handful of flowers that have been thrown our way. I just watch the competition as they flash by on the screens.

I think I'll have to say the 10 boy is the cutest—while his district partner is the biggest—the 5 girl is smallest and shortest, and the 4 boy is tallest.

But they're all going to be after me…

Ugh, no. Not thinking about that, remember?

I wonder how Tara's doing. She's required to watch this, but it's probably a little humiliating for her, too. I'm sure some of the other kids would be mocking her about how dumb her best friend looks, if I weren't headed for the Games. Some of those girls can be awfully shallow, but no one's that bad.

Not so much that way here, though, huh?

I'll have to watch out for all of them.


	9. Get Your Head in the Game

**Amantius Redulite, District 2**

The Training Centre is boring as crap. I've already done this, the other district kids are already afraid of me, and there's nothing to do. I could throw around some axes or something without revealing my main weapon, but it's not worth it. It would be more tiring than entertaining, and if I injure something doing that, I'm probably not going to get fixed up enough by gametime.

So I'm basically just stalking around, staring down some random tributes as they try to figure out how to do crap, usually not successfully. The blonde with braids is trying throwing knives, but she's too bone-skinny to give it any power. Next to her is the smokestack boy from 3—who's doing a lot better power-wise but has no consistent aim—and the hot chick from 1.

She sucks at this, too, but I guess I'm going to end up being allies with her. I don't know what the crap happened in District 1 lately, but apparently they ran out of female Careers for this year. And it's pretty easy to tell Cisca's not a Career. But I'm sure she'll end up in the pack, anyway, just being from a Career district. She's probably useless, but I wouldn't mind keeping her around just to look at. Because for all of the other girls, either I'm killing then immediately, they're not really good-looking, or they're my sister.

I still don't really get why they let her in this. With her brains—or lack thereof—she'll be dead at the bloodbath. And it's kind of mean or something to make siblings volunteer in the same Games, but I don't see her making it whether I'm there or not, so whatever. Maybe this is just the best way to get her out of the training program. Don't have to worry about her using her skills—whatever those really are, I've never seen—against the government or something, and don't have to kill her yourself.

Of course, that also means the whole of District 2's honor this year is riding on me. Eh. I can handle it. They wouldn't pick me to volunteer otherwise, unless they're just throwing this year away, and that's unthinkable. Nope, we're a bunch of Capitol bootlickers _every_ year. Not that that's unnecessary, but still.

After scoffing at how hopeless this bunch is, I go to the next occupied stand. The girl with almost-grey hair and the boy with the horse face are working on starting fires. The girl's not completely pathetic at it, but her district partner is having great difficulty getting a match to light. Bunch of geniuses here.

The neighbouring stand is taken up by the Elevens and some lighter-skinned girl I don't remember. No, wait, I think the dark girl is from somewhere else. Whatever. They're all going to be dead. Anyway, they're working on building shelter. The dark girl is decent, but the other two keep building things that collapse quickly.

Wow. The only thing here to be impressed by is how unimpressive the non-Careers are. It's almost funny.

Over by the hand-to-hand station, the fang girl and the unibrow girl from 12 are taking a break from fighting. They seem to be getting sort of friendly. Oh, boy, a loser alliance. You know that just makes the both of you easier to find, right? Oh, wait, you're stupid and untrained. Never mind.

The only one actually practising at the station is the really short chick who doesn't have much more strength than the brink-of-starvation girl back at the knife stand. I'm guessing she's just bored, because she couldn't defend herself from a toddler.

Unable to keep from sighing in boredom, I wander over to the sword station. The guy from 12 is doing somewhat decently, while the 7 boy is making so many beginner's mistakes it's not even funny. The apathetic kid that had his eyes squeezed shut for the whole chariot event is slicing at the air. Must be one of the weak ones that can't even stand cutting open a dummy because it looks too much like a person. And, boo-hoo, it's such a shame to kill a real person. No wonder you guys lose most of the time.

The only others here are the pair from 4, who are spending more time trash-talking each other than trying to outdo the other on their respective mannequins. If they're going to be arguing the whole time, I might just have to kill them and recruit some new losers.

Really, I'd rather not mess with the pack at all, but loner Careers tend to get blown up and/or forgotten. There's some strength in numbers once they get big enough, so I'd better use it if I can stand to.

Here's hoping I can stand to.

**Anglynn Redulite, District 2**

I'm playing about with paints at the camouflage station when some official announces lunchtime. I have to wash the little roses off the back of my hand, so by the time I get to the lunch area, there's a line.

Oh, well. I'm not really in a rush, anyway. I already have a place to sit, with the Careers. I wish I didn't have to eat with Amantius, though. He likes being mean to me. All of my brothers like being mean to me. And they're all older, so they've been bullying me for all sixteen years.

Okay, I don't really remember the first few of those, but I'm sure they were still after me. Especially Amantius, even if he was just one at the time. That's how bad they all are, okay?

But I shouldn't complain. It's not very ladylike.

I wait in line behind the ditzy, thin-haired boy from 5 until I get to the food. I don't know what half of it is, but I take a good plateful. The food here has been amazing. Especially compared to what we eat in my house. It's much better when I cook, of course, but my brothers never let me. Even so, I think I'd dare to say this is better than my cooking.

I find where the other Careers have started to sit down. Only the pair from 1 are at the table now. I take a seat across from them.

No sooner have I grabbed my fork than a familiar face comes up by my side.

"Anglynn?" he starts, stepping over towards the bench. "Do you mind if I sit next to you?"

Having already put a bite of food in my mouth, I just shake my head. He hops onto the seat and, not having a tray, observes the two across the table.

"So these are some of your allies, huh?"

Once again bad timing. I nod.

"I think—"

"Anybody sitting there?" interrupts one of the others, motioning at the spot next to me. I guess it's the boy from 4.

I swallow. "Yes," I reply slowly. "The fairy." Duh.

Ivan laughs and puts his tray down by mine. Poor Zephyr has to zip off the bench before he gets sat on.

"Well, that was rude." I frown at Ivan for a second, but he's too busy eating to see it.

Zephyr, now hovering near my shoulder, starts, "Now, now, Anglynn. I'm sure he just didn't see me. There's no use in getting upset over it."

"Yeah," I sigh, twirling some sort of noodle with my fork. "It's just frustrating, how no one else seems to treat you fellows right."

Before I can comment on anything else, an angry roar fills the air, accompanied by Rica slamming her tray down. She doesn't take a seat just yet but makes sure we're all paying attention.

"I am going to _kill_ that boy from 11!" she says, finally sitting down. "You hear me?" She pauses, inspecting the faces around the table, and then looks at me. "And you tell your brother, too." After taking a bite of chicken, she continues, "So nobody else can kill him first. I'm calling him."

"We're calling people?" the 1 girl responds before shrugging. "I guess I'll call somebody from 3." She pauses, remembering what the District 3 tributes look like this year. "The girl from 3. Since her district insulted the whole Career institution the other year."

Her district partner looks at her sideways. "You're not even part of the 'whole Career institution'."

"Hmm, whom should I claim?" Ivan ponders for a moment. "Um… Can I just kill everybody?"

"No," Rica snaps.

Feeling like I should jump on the bandwagon, I raise my hand and say, "I'll call Egypt."

Rica gives me a look. "Why, what did he do to you?"

I blink. "Nothing. He's kinda cute, though."

"Are we seriously doing this, aru?"

I shrug and turn back towards Zephyr, having more sensible things to talk about with him than anyone else. "So, I know you're here, but where are the other three? And did Unicorn even come, because I didn't see him on the train…" I trail off, noticing the table seems a lot quieter.

When I look back over, the Ones and Ivan look away. Rica just keeps staring.

"What?" I say.

"Uh…" Rica pauses for a second and goes back to annihilating her food. "Nothing."


	10. Come Prepared

A/N: Haha, sorry about the names getting more and more obscure. I just can't go and use ones I've already had, and too many straight country names is kind of awkward, so... Yeah. I'll have a list at chapter 12; don't worry.

* * *

**Italo Veneziano, District 10**

It's finally lunchtime! And I'm happy because I've been working hard all morning, and I finally get to take a break _and_ eat! And Ermine told me to eat and drink an extra bunch for whatever reason she said, so I get to take a break and eat and eat a _lot_!

I hum as I go through the line, putting everything that looks good on my plate. And a lot of it looks good, so my plate gets heavy pretty quickly. I might have to ask for help carrying it over to the tables. Oh, well!

Struggling to balance it all on top of a glass of water, I get out of the way and wait for Ermine to catch up. She's a couple of people behind me, so I have to keep waiting for a little bit. And then she comes up behind me, takes two glasses, and nods in the direction of the tables.

"Let's find a seat, and—since I'm sure you forgot me telling you this morning—an ally. It's best to find one now so we have more time to get to know each other."

She starts walking, and I follow like a little duckling.

"Note that that doesn't mean you get to gibber the whole time about what food you like."

"Yes'm!"

Ermine examines the tributes already at tables and then those still in line. After a minute, she leads me over and takes a seat next to one of the few people sitting alone. He glances up at us before scooting over to make room.

"Riben," Ermine starts, holding out a hand. "My name is Ermine, and this is Italo. Do you think you'd be interested in an alliance with us?" She'll be doing all of the talking since I'll be dutifully keeping my mouth full.

Riben stares at her hand for a minute before figuring out he's supposed to shake.

"Perhaps," he answers, letting go. "Are you?"

Ermine nods. "I'll be honest with this up front: the main reason I'm looking at you is sponsors. You'll probably have a lot of pity donators going for you, between your age, size, and the loss of your sister in an earlier Games—" she drops her voice and looks him in the eye—"which I really am sorry about." She watches Riben for a second before finishing, "Although, I'm sure you also have other strengths, and I would like to get to know you as an ally if you join up with us. So, are you all right with that?"

Riben takes a second to eat a bite, so I go ahead and eat more, too. I'm going to have to refill my plate soon. But after this. I might end up with a new friend here if I'm lucky!

"I don't mind," Riben says finally. Then, more quietly, "I may as well be of use to someone before I die."

Ermine takes a swig of water before looking back over at him. "Why are you so sure you're going to die?"

"I refuse to fight anyone." He looks back down at his food and takes a silent bite. "My sister wouldn't approve of it."

After a few slow bites of her own food, Ermine responds, "Would you kill animals?"

Riben pauses to swallow. "If it's necessary, then I suppose so."

"Have you tried your hand at building traps yet?"

"No." He exhales. "I haven't been trying much of anything. Until now, I was sure I would just let myself die in the bloodbath."

Ermine takes a knife to something else on her plate. "Then it's a good thing we found you so early. If you turn out to be any good at it, we'll have you work on that for the rest of today, maybe longer." She takes a bite and swallows it quickly. "And then I'd like you to work on animal skinning as well, since our cook—" she nods at me—"is too afraid he'd cut himself. You're not haemophobic, are you?"

"Um…" Riben looks down at his plate. "I'm sorry, but I'm not really familiar with…"

Ermine shrugs. "I mean, do you faint at the sight of blood, or anything like that?"

"Oh. No, I don't believe so."

"Good." She takes a bite.

"Ermine?" I start, raising my hand. "Can I go get more food?"

"Sure." She glances over at me. "Make sure you drink your water, though."

"Yes'm!" I scoop up my plate and trot back to the food.

**Ermine Lutz, District 10**

I watch for a second as Italo scurries back towards the food line. I don't think it's going to be his last trip. That boy would eat us out of house and home if we let him.

But we don't. We feed him a decent amount, what we can afford. It's pretty much all we pay him, but he doesn't do much but patch up clothes and fetch supplies for the business.

That used to be Dad's job. It should have been mine, just because I'm his daughter, but I'm not all that good with fine work, and… it's better for me to not leave the house often. When I exit the building, I have to check so many things I don't get to town for an hour. But with Italo we don't have to worry about that, and Dad doesn't have to leave the cold room during the workday.

So it's not like Italo's a complete waste of food and time. He's just also… Italo. Weak, nap-inclined, airheaded, impulsive, and hopeless Italo.

Honestly, I'm still not completely sure why I'm allied with him. He's all but useless. I've tried getting him to train with me, but he's a miserable failure at all things involving physical work. He can cook, he can patch up things, and as of this morning he may finally figure out how to bandage wounds. But that's it. And with who I'm choosing to complete our alliance, I'll be the only real fighter.

Riben's not really the best choice. But Egypt and Holland aren't interested in alliances, and Turk seems to be making friends with Taner. I could try taking them both in, but it wouldn't work out with my plans. I want a three-person alliance. Any more, and it's too easy to take sides, especially when Italo and I already know each other. And my alliance will stay together until the end or die trying.

Of course, for that, the most important thing is trust. Italo and I already trust each other enough to sleep in the same room—but we take turns on which one gets the mattress, thank you—and I think we can trust Riben. He said he's not going to kill us, on his sister's grave more or less, and he doesn't seem particularly scared of me. I don't think he would have any reason to turn against us, and once we get to know each other, he shouldn't want to leave, either.

So, I think taking him in is a good bet. The best I have.

I excuse myself to get another drink and come back with an extra glass. I set it by Riben's half-empty one.

"Drink that, too," I say. "You're going to be working hard these next couple of days, and it'd be good to have some extra fluid in you before we hit the arena, since we don't know how much drinkable water we'll have access to. But don't go crazy, or your body will just get rid of it immediately."

Riben nods and sips dutifully at his first cup.

"And it wouldn't hurt to eat a little more, just to have a little bit more energy in reserve. But only try that if you're sure you won't throw up. Have to be careful, with how rich the food is here."

He nods again, watching as Italo comes back with another food-laden plate.

"I got more!" my district partner announces, setting the plate down and sitting back next to me.

"I've noticed." I take a bite of sausage. "It took you a while."

"Oh, yeah." Italo pauses to slurp up some noodles. "There was a pretty girl over there, so I had to talk to her some."

"Is that right?" I sigh, forking another piece of food.

I shouldn't be surprised. Whenever I've been in public areas with him, he has to hit on every girl in sight. Of course, he's never hit on me. Maybe if I were pretty like Cisca, he would, but…

Not that I would want him to! I'm perfectly fine being friends, with no awkwardness between us. But then, Italo has a tendency to make things awkward, anyway…

With another sigh, I keep eating. Little quirks aren't the things I should be worrying about right now. I need to be planning out the rest of my day.

All right, so from here I go to the weightlifting station to work out a bit…


	11. Courtesy

A/N: Congrats to ChaoticXXHearts for the 100th review!

...Wait, what?

Yeah, the 100th review. Before the Games have even started.

*YHBYJTEVALYIETUBGEILSRUBGALs until computer explodes*

* * *

**Yao Qin, District 1**

I try to stay patient as the stylist continues working. I'm not sure why my suit needs so many little gems, nor do I know why he couldn't put them on my suit ahead of time. But I'll wait. If I weren't patient, I wouldn't have survived this long with six siblings.

I'm the only one of us that has to go to the Hunger Games, since I'm the oldest. Mom and Dad gave the others a choice, and half of them were seriously considering it the last time I checked.

I really hope they don't get thrown into this. I've gotten into enough squabbles with them to know they're strong, but that doesn't mean much. Anyone in the Games can die. Any district, any gender, any amount of strength or experience or brains. So much relies on chance, and I can't stand throwing my little brothers and sisters in the face of that.

Of course, they refuse to listen to my advice. With all we hear about bringing glory to the District and our great track record—second in wins only to District 2—it's hard to take it from all sides. And why would they listen to me and stop training, when I've been in the program just about all my life?

But that's different. I've never had much of a choice. I'm just scared my parents will make the second-born compete if I refuse. And while Ju is worryingly determined to fight in the Games, I can't let him. He's not much younger than me, so he won't have much time to decide. Maybe if I just steal his thunder this year, he won't follow through with it. Maybe…

I take a deep breath as the stylist carefully decorates my cuffs with more bits of pyrite.

He glances up at me. "It won't be much longer. Just this and some more detail on the collar."

I nod and continue to stand still, though my feet are starting to ache a bit.

Not much longer until the interviews, then. So, my angle is supposed to be sociable but serious. Or maybe "determined" is a better word. I'm allowed to joke around a little, but I am _going _to win, and I am _going_ to see my family again. It's not too far from the real me, I think. I'm not so dead-set on victory, but I sure hope it comes.

I'm just unsure because of luck, really. I can fight just fine, with or without a weapon, and I know all of my basic edible things and shelters. As long as the arena doesn't work against me—which it probably will—and I don't get stabbed in my sleep, my chances are great.

A lot depends on the Gamemakers, I guess. Usually they take the Careers' side and help us out, but if we're not good enough, they'll start picking us off like any other tributes.

Are we going to be good enough this year? The 2 boy's pretty big, both of the Fours have pretty good musculature, and the 2 girl has fairly toned arms. Amantius is the only one who seems to take this seriously, and his sister's kind of insane. My District partner… She's not very muscular, she's not trained, and from what I know of her, she's a bit of a slut, so I won't really get my hopes up.

So individually, I guess we get Bs. As for together… The Fours seem ready to rip out each other's throats now, Amantius seems ready to rip out all of our throats, and his sister's kind of insane. Cisca will be hitting on the guys and vice versa, I'm sure, so… Not foreseeing much as far as teamwork goes. But we're going into a life-or-death situation, so maybe we can get along a bit. Hopefully.

Yeah, hopefully. And hopefully everything will go perfectly fine, and the arena will be comfortable, and we'll have enough good stuff to eat and drink the whole time, and we'll kill off everyone else quickly—and I won't have to fight that Ermine girl, since I don't think I could hold my own in a fight with her—and then I'll kill the rest of the Careers and go home.

Oh, I don't want to be here…

But I am here, and there's no turning back. The only way I'll get back to my family is if I fight my way to victory.

**Cisca Lemieux, District 1**

My stylist allows me to pull on the gloves myself before he leans down to adjust the straps on my shoes.

"Well," he starts, putting his hands on his hips and smiling, "what do you think?"

I look over myself in one of the full-length mirrors. My hair's wonderful as always, though he didn't have to do much with it. Some of the glitter spray he put on it has rubbed off on my shoulders. A bit beneath that, the strapless dress cuts across in a straight line. The silk is for some reason the same blue as my eyes, but I suppose the eye shadow has done enough to bring them out.

In front, the dress cuts off about mid-thigh, though it extends down in waves as it approaches the backs of my knees. Below that is skin until the golden criss-crosses of my sandals. They match the thin, cascading chains of my earrings, as well as the outline of the large gem in the middle of my dress.

The only other colour of my outfit is the ivory of the very long gloves. They seem a bit silly, but at least the rest of the outfit is more in line with District 1 fashion than the Capitol's. The makeup's not excessive, either, and it may even achieve the difficult task of making me look more beautiful.

"I think you did a magnificent job," I say, turning to see the back of my dress, which is mostly made of a few criss-crosses.

"Thank you," the stylist says genuinely, adjusting the ring in his eyebrow. His gaze lingers on me a while longer before he turns me loose, opening the door for me. I nod a thanks and step out.

Now, where was the elevator from here…?

I wait for a while to see if anyone else comes around, but no one does. Thankful that these are comfortable for heels, I walk the wide halls until I finally end up at the elevator. I press the button and wait, examining the little wrinkles in my gloves.

A light hums on, and the elevator doors slide open. I step inside, ignoring the two already there. It's just one of the small boys and the big 3 boy. I must be in here with the early finishers, since it didn't take much to prepare me.

The doors draw back towards each other just as someone in the distance steps into the hallway. Oh, bad timing. I guess Yao will have to wait for the next one. Shouldn't be long, anyway, since there can't be too many of us riding down already.

The doors bounce back open as Yao picks up the pace. I catch the darker-haired boy keeping his hand over a button, and he doesn't move back until Yao has made it inside.

Holding the door open, I guess. Might as well, for a Career. They're the kind you want to be on the good side of.

I'm employing the same strategy, to some extent. I spent all of one day in the Tribute Training Facility on a field trip, so I'm really as much of an outsider as he is. I just get a free ticket in since I'm from District 1. The Career pack needs its numbers, and fairly strong ones. While I'm not trained or bulky, I have been fed enough my whole life. And I'm sure to attract some sponsors, with my looks.

Of course, those sponsors will be mostly pervert old men that want to rent me after the Games, but… I don't have much of a choice, do I? I'll be appealing to them in this interview for sure, and it's not like they wouldn't naturally be after me, anyway. I'll just have to play them for their funds if I want to live.

And I refuse to die here. I have a life to live, a family to make, things to do. Also, I really, really don't want to die, so…

The doors slide open at the last floor, and I exit after Yao. Once we get to the interview line, I'll have to switch places. I'm a bit nervous to be the first interviewed this year, but I'll be fine.

And, hey, tonight gets to start with a little glamour for once.


	12. Average Chaos

**Cuba Machado, District 11**

I lean against the wall as we wait to be admitted onto the stage. Not going to be long until the interviews start, but I'm not worried. I don't have to do much but act like the village idiot for two minutes. It should be pretty fun.

I check a clock. I think it's still going to be ten minutes or so before we go out there. Explains why a few of us aren't here yet.

My district partner's here, though, standing on my right. In accordance with her angle—which isn't that common among sixteen-year-olds but works for her—she's dressed up in a simple, white dress with a pastel pink shoulder-jacket-thing. Her hair's down, but she's kept it that way since the first time I mistook her for Rica. I apologised for that, but I guess once someone hits you over the head thinking you were somebody else, you probably want to take precautions.

I realise she's looking at me and shift my shoulders. "Everything okay?"

Her hands around her elbows, she looks back down and has to push her glasses back up her nose.

"Sort of," she says quietly. Then she suddenly looks straight down, slouching. "I-I don't think I can do this."

"What are you talking about?" A few other tributes glance our way, since I'm a _bit_ louder than her. "You practised this for hours. You'll be fine."

"I practised in front of one person," she corrects me, frowning. "I can't do this in front of the whole country! I-I'll just freeze up, and…"

"You didn't freeze up on the chariot," I respond, grinning. "That was fun."

"Yeah, but…" She looks back up, her eyes closed and eyebrows bent back. "That was with everyone screaming and throwing flowers and no one really looking, and this is going to be everyone looking at me—no, everyone scrutinising me, and I'll be sitting up there alone, and…" She moans. "Am I shaking right now? I feel like I'm shaking right now."

"A little bit." I put a hand on her shoulder and nudge her a bit. "You'll be fine. Just try to relax a little."

She takes a deep breath and exhales slowly a few times before an official tells us it's time to walk onstage. Tensing up again, she gets back in the reforming line, and after a minute I follow her. The line trudges forwards stiffly, eventually going up to the stage, and finally leading us all in front of our seats. Once the 12 boy is at his seat, we all sit down.

My chair's a little small for me, but it's far enough from the others I don't brush up against anyone. Good. My stylist—who's on the row not very far from us—would probably have a heart attack if I even vaguely mussed up this jacket.

Caesar's starting off the night with his usual round of jokes. I'm more distracted by the colour he's chosen this year. It's a very bright shade of pink-orange.

It's still not too long before the interviews start up. Cisca struts up first, settling on the front seat as she's introduced. We figure out she's an only child and wasn't giving her private training session—which gave her a 5—her all. About everything else she says is some fort of flirting.

Yao is next. He's fairly friendly but doesn't take insults well. Instead of the usual Career reasons for competing, he's here for the sake of his little siblings. All six of them. Phew! We have tons of kids working in the tobacco fields, but I don't know if any of them have that many brothers and sisters.

Anglynn's angle must be "cuckoo," since her outfit for some reason includes wings, and she's not exactly the sanest Career I've seen. Her brother is hostile and apparently stronger than his three brothers.

Shaye is friendly but doesn't give out much information, aside from her lack of siblings. Huh. Apparently everyone's either an only child or one among hordes of siblings.

Drius answers his questions for the most part with no elaboration. Then he gets into a ramble on how little his other normal tributes have been prepared, compared to him. The buzzer cuts him off, and Caesar has a bit of trouble convincing him his time is up and he needs to sit back down.

I refuse to acknowledge the next tribute up. It's a struggle to just stay seething in my seat as her voice rings across the area. But I manage to stay silent until she's back in the semicircle.

But she won't be so lucky if we ever meet in the arena!

**Nada Ott, District 11**

I can't decide whether it's more relaxing to tune out or listen. If I tune out everyone, then I start going over my interview answers in my head and second-guess myself on what the right response was again. But if I listen, I have to pay attention to all of these people that are out to kill me and all of these normal, nice people that have to die if I live. Just, everything is too stressful here. Ohh, I can't do this…

Right now I'm watching but not really paying attention to the words. The little 5 girl has gotten to her feet to perform some dainty ballet moves. Her district partner is inordinately cheerful. The girl after him is relatively normal, but then she starts showing hints of bloodlust.

Gosh, even if they seem nice, I really can't trust any of them, can I?

I glance over at my district partner. We're going to be allies, and I'm really grateful for that, but… In the end, we'd still be trying to kill each other. I can't imagine him murdering anyone—even his hatred of Rica is sort of comical—but I've only known him a few days. One of us will turn on the other eventually, but which will it be?

Feeling more hopeless, I turn back to Caesar to distract myself, but he's not interviewing anyone. He calls for Riben one more time before turning around. I find myself looking as well to see a boy slumped halfway down his chair, his eyes closed.

I-is he… dead?

Caesar rushes over and observes for a second before pulling something out of a coral-coloured pocket. He waves it in Riben's face until the boy wakes up gasping.

Ah… He's okay…

Uncomfortable with how much this has freaked me out, I take another couple of deep breaths. If I keep worrying about everybody like this, I'll be dead once the actual Games come around. Ohh…

The interviews recommence with comments on Riben's fainting. Riben, keeping his eyes averted, apologises several times and mumbles that there are a lot of people here.

At that point, I stop listening again. He's just a scared little kid! Why does he have to be in this? Why do any of us have to be in this? We haven't done anything wrong…

I start taking deep breaths again. Now that my turn is getting closer, the interviews are starting to zoom by faster. I'm not ready for this. I'm not ready for any of this.

Breathe in, breathe out… It's going to be fine… Just keep your head clear, and you can handle this all right.

It's not long enough before my name is called. Getting up with a nervous smile, I try not to walk too quickly towards Caesar. I press my dress to my legs and sit down.

"So, Miss Ott," Caesar starts, crossing his legs, "how has your stay in the Capitol been?"

"Well…" The microphone barely seems to pick up my voice. "I… I think it's a really beautiful place. Everything's so nice, the view from my room was wonderful, the food was wonderful… It's been a nice stay, and I hope I can come back someday."

"You can come back every day if you win," Caesar says cheerfully. "How confident are you you'll be able to do that?"

I take another deep breath. "Fairly confident." But that's mostly because I haven't wanted to think about it enough to really rate my chances.

We go on for another minute before I realise this must be the dullest interview of the evening. I'm supposed to be more cheerful than this, more determined. But it's just not coming out right. Caesar's doing his best, but I'm going to be gone from the Capitol's mind the second he dismisses me.

He dismisses me, and I'm surprised by how close I am to crying as I walk back. I just blew my chances at—but no. I can think about that later. I can't cry right now.

Instead, I watch my district partner's interview. No sooner has Caesar asked his first question than Cuba's booming voice sends the microphone on his collar squealing. Caesar's hands fly to his ears while Cuba looks at the gadget curiously. He wraps his fist around it.

"I don't think I need this thing, anyway!" he announces, quite truthfully.

Caesar looks at his own microphone. "You see, my microphone must be picking up your voice from over here—"

"Well, turn it off and we'll see if I need it, either!"

And then Caesar gets to sit back as Cuba goes into a whole spiel where he instructs the audience to do the Wave from the front to as far back as they can hear him. After that, the interview goes on in a somewhat normal fashion, though it's much more entertaining—and louder—than mine.

But we're going to share what donations we get, right? So maybe he can save me from my failed interview. It should work out just fine, right?

I smile at Cuba as he comes back to his seat.


	13. Crashing Down

A/N: So the Games begin! As do the recommended listenings, and... Here's our list of characters.

1 Yao Qin, 18 (China); Cisca Lemieux, 17 (France)  
2 Amantius Redulite, 17 (OC Wales); Anglynn Redulite, 16 (England)  
3 Drius Bousky, 18 (OC); Shaye Selles, 17 (Seychelles)  
4 Ivan Muskov, 17 (Russia); Rica States, 17 (America)  
5 Florry Raman, 15 (OC); Chanelle Monaco, 14 (Monaco)  
6 Riben Wang, 13 (Japan); Romania Viorel, 16 (Romania)  
7 Turk Adnan, 16 (Turkey); Holland Mogens, 16 (Netherlands)  
8 Taner Nacar, 15 (T.R.N.C.); Lili Stein, 13 (Liechtenstein)  
9 Zavann Liu, 14 (OC); Anissa Dell, 15 (OC)  
10 Italo Veneziano, 17 (Italy); Ermine Lutz, 18 (Germany)  
11 Cuba Machado, 18 (Cuba); Nada Ott, 16 (Canada)  
12 Egypt Hassan, 16 (Egypt); Yana Sappe, 15 (OC)

Recommended Listening: T.N.T. by AC/DC

* * *

**Anissa Dell, District 9**

I play with the roll in my hands as the hovercraft moves on. There's really no reason to be more tensed up now that the windows have gone dark, but I am. Just a sign we're getting closer, I guess.

Sipping at the water also on the dinner—or breakfast, really—table, I close my eyes.

It's going to be all right. Just grab something useful if the Careers aren't nearby, or find Liu and run if they are. And we'll take it day by day from there, since there's no need to panic about that now.

Yeah. It'll be fine. Just keep your head cool, and things should work out.

**Ermine Lutz, District 10**

The Launch Room's chillier than I expected. Either the temperature control is cranked way down, or it's not all that functional and aboveground is cold.

When my arena clothes come out, I'm positive it's the second. I have a tight-fitting, wool-like undershirt and leggings, followed by thick, slick pants and a shirt of the same style. It's all topped off with a puffy, blue-and-white jacket. I get thick socks, boots with a few spikes on them, and gloves, but no hat. I might want to keep an eye out for that at the Cornucopia.

Of course, my first priorities there are still water and weaponry. I'm the only one in the alliance that could bear the weight of metal for long, especially with the lower-quality stuff they put closer to the fringes. I'll still only look for things within my designated radius—which is only larger than Riben's because I can fend off someone getting too close—grab a thing or two, and go after Italo. He can run the fastest of the three of us, given he's running away from somebody. I just hope he manages to get something useful before he flees.

But we'll have to work with whatever we get. I can figure out a way.

Starting to get a little overheated, I wait for the announcement to step on my platform.

**Taner Nacar, District 8**

This jacket's so fluffed up it almost seems a miracle the cylinder comes down around me without touching the sleeves.

Going to need a few more miracles to last much longer, though. But if I can make it out of the bloodbath, I at least have an ally to make things easier.

I'm still not sure why Turk decided to team up with me. But he got a decent training score, and it's not like anyone else even acknowledged my existence in the Training Centre, so I'll take what I can get. He seems trustworthy, too, even if he's a little too ready to get into things.

A little whir signals my platform to begin rising, and I close my eyes.

Just relax. You have a minute to see what's around you, and you have a good enough chance of getting out of the first battle alive.

I repeat that to myself as the platform slides into darkness.

**Chanelle Monaco, District 5**

When my disc emerges into the arena, I can't see a thing. At first I think it's just the glare of sunlight compared to the sable that had been surrounding me. But after a moment, I realise it's because, outside the tribute circle, there is nothing but blinding white. Nearer my feet, the ground looks like snow. I almost reach a toe out to test it before remembering where I am.

Observing the area around me, I see that I am not in immediate danger. The long-faced boy from 9 and the boy from 7 are the closest to my right, and to my left the girls from 12 and 8. Only past the first two spots are any malicious tributes, and even then, the 3 boy isn't a Career. I'm tempted to take something from in front of me.

Rolling my token between my hands, I survey the area ahead. I'm not sure that I've ever seen the bloodbath area so entirely full of items. The first is still a bit of a distance from me, but there's not even a clear path to the Cornucopia, from any angle I can see. Surely if I only take one item while the others are scrambling for more, it would be judicious to get something to help me…

…But no. The nearest item is just some sort of wire hanger, and I'd hate to find myself going much farther, even for that bunch of bananas beyond. I can't run fast enough to counteract the time lost. I'll just turn around and—

My little wooden ball jumps out of my hands.

The minute's not up yet—!

But no, it's just a miniscule little ball. It couldn't possibly set off—

It does.

**Yana Sappe, District 12**

I've got my gaze locked on those bananas. They're going to be mine, all mine. The bunch is closer to the ballerina, but she's so small even I can push her out of the way easily enough. And I won't have to worry much about the skinny one on my other side, since she has some bread closer to her.

So I'm getting the fruit. Good—I'm in charge of food, and Romania's in charge of water. Although it's probably all ice out here, phew.

I'm glad Romania's allied with me. It's only been a few days, so I don't know her that well, but—aside from some questionable tastes—she's about as normal as I am. So I'll have someone to chat with during those gaps between enemies, and somebody to help me fight. Works out better for both of us.

I'm geared up and ready to go when the little ballerina girl beside me explodes.

If these shoes didn't have spikes, I think I would be sliding across the platform, the way the shockwave hits. As it is, I'm here flailing and trying not to fall over as blood and other unpleasant parts crash to the ground around me. By some miracle, none of it hits me.

One of my shoe spikes scrapes up against the edge of my platform.

I scramble to get my feet back to the middle of the circle, but my body's still tilting the other way. I slam my hand down in reflex and manage to only hit the metal.

My boots scrape the ground.

Frozen in more ways than one is the second before the blast rips off my legs and goes along to rip up the rest of me.

**Lili Stein, District 8**

I stand silently, trying to force down the lump in my throat. It's hard when I can't look away from Yana's blood across my feet. I can't feel it through the shoes or anything, but… but…

I cover my mouth in time to stifle the first sobbing sound. Just like I somehow braced myself in time to avoid the second blast. I think it was weaker than the one that killed Chanelle… What's left of Yana isn't quite as plastered to the ground…

My knees feel weak, and I'm trembling for reasons other than the cold, but I don't let myself fall. That can't happen to me, too. Th-that can't have even happened to them… That can't…

I try not to let my knees knock. I can't fall. That can't happen to me. I-it can't…

Pain explodes across the side of my head.

To my horror, I stagger to the side and fall. But even as the snow starts to numb my ear, nothing blows up.

What's happening? What…

Another hit crashes across my head. Warmth starts running down my hair before I finally realise the gong must have already sounded. My vision is blurred with tears, but someone is standing over me, something long and blood-slicked in its hand.

It's going to kill me. It's going to kill me right here—

No, no, no! I can't… I can't… You don't have to worry about me; I'll just crawl somewhere and freeze to death quietly, just please don't—

The next time it hits, something crunches, and I'm dead before the tears even start to run down my cheeks.

**Florry Raman, District 5**

The announcer tells us to let the Games begin, and the minute passes, and then the gong sounds. I start forwards, picking up the pair of socks that are only a metre away from me. Not even that far from here is the next item to take, a little yellow bottle of something—I don't read the label yet.

After that, all of the things get even closer together, and it's hard to decide what to pick next. I go ahead and wrap my arms around a small blanket and a warm container of something and then turn around.

The boy from 2 is standing right by me with a sword in his hand.

"Hello," I say, starting to step past him. "Sorry, but I don't think I want to die right now, so you should wait for later."

He shoves the sword through my heart.


	14. Run for It

Recommended Listening: What's My Name by The Clash

* * *

**Shaye Selles, District 3**

It is cold, it is cold, it is _cold_. It is freezing. I am frozen. Just—aah, why is it so cold? And two of us are dead before the gong even sounds, and _my ears are going to fall off_.

Rubbing the sides of my head does more to chill my hands than warm my ears. At this point I'm just hoping my shivering doesn't knock me off my plate, too.

The gong sounds, and I jump. Cursing internally, I sweep the area my eyeballs were rattling too much to see a second ago. But the Careers are after me and whatnot, so I'm just going to run now.

I step back off my plate onto slippery ground. The second step makes the surface of the snow implode, and I hurry onwards, more snow soaking into my pant legs and starting to get in my shoes.

Then one of my shaking feet doesn't quite come down right, and I collapse into the white stuff.

Before I can push myself up, a hand is on my shoulder.

I tense as I'm suddenly pulled up. It has to be a Career, getting ready for the final blow. But my weight's not yet on my feet, so I can't push myself away, and I can't shake myself from his grip without surely falling back down into the cold, cold snow.

I do nothing but shiver until my weight's back on my feet. The hand lets go, and I turn around, ready to at least try and hit him, but he's not what I expected. Instead of a Career swinging a weapon, it's just the big, loud guy, and he's already retreating. I watch him run for a second longer before he joins up with a girl I don't remember. They don't come back to kill me.

Wh-what was that all about? He was going to kill me but changed his mind—is there a Career coming?

I turn but don't see anyone coming my way.

He… He was just helping me up…? But—no, not out here; that doesn't make any sense.

Nor does me standing here waiting.

Trying to regain control over my shaking feet, I get a few steps in before I notice something completely out of place. For some reason, there's an arrow sticking out of my stomach. Bewildered, I feel at my back, too, and find a little bump just beneath my coat.

This can't be right. It doesn't even hurt—

Scratch that. It hurts now.

I fall to the snow, my shoulder hitting hard on the ice beneath. I'm gasping from pain, trying futilely to get this thing back out of me with hands I can't control.

Before I can go completely numb, another shaft goes through my skull.

**Taner Nacar, District 8**

I pick up a small knife and whatever fabric thing is next to it and then turn around to look for Turk.

The scene that greets me is chaos. Aside from the gore splattered from the two that moved before the gong, patches of red are all over the place, and a few tributes are making more of them as I watch.

I try to pick out where Turk is. He wasn't visible during the first minute, so he has to be around the other side somewhere, unless he's run a lot farther.

Before I catch a glimpse of him, Rica is in front of me.

She picks up the baseball bat just a foot away from me as I turn and bolt. But apparently I'm still the closest to her, because she's running after me. Hoping it'll hit her face and distract her, I throw the cloth thing behind me.

The bat still clips my ear.

I try to run faster over all of the obstacles. If I just get to a clear stretch of snow, I'll at least have a chance. I can meet up with Turk later, as long as I make sure there's a later.

Something sharp catches my foot, and I only start to tilt forwards before the bat swings hard into my temple.

**Drius Bousky, District 3**

The gong sounds, and I jump for the piles of goods about me. I only pause long enough to take an extra pair of shoes and a container of water. From there, I turn and start away from the Cornucopia.

My only goal is away. I cannot see anything but white from here.

Metal crashes into the back of my head.

I grunt, stumbling across the snow. There are now flashes of pain from my occiput, but I do not allow myself to fall or slow. Every moment I waste puts me farther from my son.

The metal comes back, hitting the side of my head with a crack. This time I am unable to help crying out or falling to the ground. The snow begins to turn red as I attempt to push myself back up.

"Wow, this one really doesn't want to die!"

I am only allowed another moment of impossible pain before another strike makes it all fade away.

**Anissa Dell, District 9**

Liu was on the other side of the Cornucopia before the gong sounded. We're not going to be able to immediately get away together like we planned, so I decide to grab whatever light things come in my path as I hurry across.

Maybe not all of the light things. There's an awful lot of stuff here.

My arms are starting to get full by the time I finally get to the point I can see the other side of the circle.

The Bousky boy is being beaten by the boy with the pipe. At the platform nearest them, Liu is face-down, not moving. It's too cold for much bleeding, but there's still a little puddle of blood on the snow where it's run off his head.

Making a choking sound, I watch dumbly for another moment before I make myself turn away and run off, on my own.

**Romania Viorel, District 6**

It's hard to grab things when my hands are shaking so much. Yeah, from cold, except these gloves are pretty good. I think most of it is from my ally blowing up.

Just… Yana! Why Yana? Just… Sigh. I… I guess she would have had to die, anyway, for me to get out alive and all, but… Yana!

Well… At least she got to go out in a cool way. May we all be reminded of her last volatile dance whenever we see blood on snow.

Done with the memorial for now, I put a box of tinder in with the other things I've snatched and decide it's enough. Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I look for which way I should go.

There's, like, nothing but white. If the sky weren't the teeniest bit grey, I wouldn't be able to even tell them apart. And as far as the ground goes, I can't figure out if there are any big hills or valleys or much of anything. I guess I'll just run off wherever and see what happens.

I start running off wherever. I feel the ground start to slope up about a metre past the starting plate ring, just before something slams into my kneecap.

"Wah!" I go tumbling forwards, thankfully only through snow this far from the Cornucopia. I manage to keep from losing my grip on my stuff, but my knee is in too much pain for me to get back up.

This… is bad.

Not able to tell where whoever hit me went, I just try forcing weight down my right leg again. It still hurts way too much, but I manage to sort of stand.

It's not much longer before crunching footsteps come up behind me. I take a careful step forwards—there's finally enough adrenaline it's possible—before Rica is picking up the baseball bat she threw.

I am not going to be able to get away in time.

Controlling my breathing, I wait for her to take her first swing. It's awfully fast, but I manage to duck and chomp on her wrist hard. She cries out, and I shake my head around like I've seen some wild dogs do. She flails to get me off, but I let go myself and sprint away, spitting out blood.

**Holland Mogens, District 7**

I get away from the Cornucopia with a good armful of supplies. Judging from the environment, this is all I'm going to have for a while.

That's all right. I have some food, a small box of hand-warmers, some sort of sleeping bag, and a canteen. No weapon, unfortunately, but that's fine for now. I have some supplies, I'm alive, and no one seems to be chasing me.

And that's the best I could have hoped for by this point.


	15. Keep Going

A/N: No idea whether I've used the recommended listening song before. I can't keep track. But it's Journey, so you'll enjoy regardless, da?

Recommended Listening: La Raza Del Sol by Journey

* * *

**Ermine Lutz, District 10**

I'm pretty loaded up before I finally hear Italo scream something incoherently. Securing the crate of wood in my left hand, I locate him and start in that direction.

Riben is headed the same way. He still hasn't quite caught up with me. But I'm still between him and any Careers, most of which are occupied at the moment.

One such Career is Yao, who's attempting to pursue Italo. It's pretty hopeless on Yao's part. I don't think any human could catch up with Italo when he's in a panic. For my part, I'm sincerely hoping he'll at least calm down before he runs straight out of my field of vision.

Yao's about given up by the time Italo reaches a steep slope that must obscure the rest of the arena from the starting circle. The Career starts to have second thoughts when Italo slips on the incline, but by then I'm approaching him.

I slow and turn so I can grab Yao's arm. I lift him and fling him away from my alliance before he's aware enough to try and fight back.

As Riben starts to overtake me, I get back on track and catch up with Italo. While he frantically struggles, pulling down handfuls of snow, I'm able to easily reach the icy top of the bowl. Being encumbered, it's a bit more difficult to haul myself up, but I manage it. I go to help Italo, who proceeds to collapse panting on the icy ridge next to me. I turn to help Riben before seeing he's already by my other side.

"All right." I get to my feet and give Italo a hand. "We're not done moving yet."

I test the next step to find it's once again soft snow. Our footprints are going to show no matter what we do. The Careers are certainly going to come after me, and as far as I know, I'm the only one in an alliance of three. But…

Which of us has the smallest feet?

"Riben, take the lead; head us in any direction you feel comfortable with," I start. "Take big strides. Italo, follow him and try to match his footprints. I'll bring up the rear."

I spare another glance behind me—no one's watching us—and then we take off again.

**Turk Adnan, District 7**

I have to get a running start coming up to the slope, but I finally get myself over.

Just myself. My ally's dead.

I guess I really didn't expect T.R. to do that well in the Games, and he told me himself he couldn't be sure he'd make it out of the bloodbath. But… to see him down and crushed like that…

Why does it all have to be so real now? I knew the whole Games wouldn't be a crazy school brawl, but…

But I guess I just need to worry about me now, huh? Keep going, find or make some shelter… find some food…

This is depressing…

I wonder if anyone else would have allied with me. I really need someone to talk to, or argue with, or something.

Well, I'll see if I run into anyone out here. I'm heading to some sort of forest, I think. All I can see are icy, jagged branches. They're the only things around I can actually see, so you'd think someone else would end up this way. Hopefully someone friendly.

I could handle non-friendlies, though. I even got some sort of curved sword out of the piles of things. It'd be pretty cool to get in a real swordfight with this. Except they'd be trying to kill me, but…

Let's just hope they're friendly.

**Nada Ott, District 11**

I'm not sure how long the two of us have been running through the snow. I just know my side feels like it's being stabbed, and I can't keep up this pace.

I'm too out of breath to ask Cuba if we're far enough to slow down, so I just start slowing down, anyway. Sorry if that's rude, but I just can't keep this up…

He catches on quickly enough, and after a while we just putter to a stop. I sag to the ground panting and shivering. Cuba plops down next to me, lowering the tote bag in his arms. I think to ask if we can check what's in it, but I can't get out words loud enough when I'm breathing so hard.

Instead, I sort of motion at the bag and fight off the urge to lie down. Cuba looks over his shoulder and then starts to go through the sack. There's a medium-thick blanket, a hat, two pairs of socks, and an empty flask. Cuba turns the tote upside down and shakes it to make sure it's empty.

"Well." He's panting, but not as much as me. "Not much to do with this now." He looks over the stuff again and offers me the hat.

"And there's only one?" I get out.

"Yeah."

"Oh. Well… you picked it up, so…"

He waves his hand. "No, you go ahead. I have enough blubber to be warm without it."

He does have a point, and my ears really sting from the cold, but it still feels kind of… exploitive. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's fine. Take it and we'll get going again."

"Oh!" I hurry and take it. "All right. Sorry." The cloth is cold when I first pull it over my ears, but it warms up.

Cuba starts to load the bag back up.

"Hey… Nada?"

I rub my side in case it helps the pain. "Yes?"

He puts his hand on the metal container and sighs. "Do you… think I should have brought her with us?"

"Eh?" It takes me a minute to remember he had helped a girl up before he came to me. "I… don't know. Why?"

"Well, she kind of got shot after I left, and, uh…" He scratches the side of his head.

"O-oh! I'm sorry; I didn't see…" I avert my gaze. "And, well… It's not like you knew that would happen or anything, and we didn't really know her before, so… I mean, it was nice enough just to go and help her, so I think you're fine."

He exhales. "…Yeah."

I push myself to my feet. "So, um, do you still want to go, or…?"

"Ah. Yeah, yeah."

I help him up and, after a last glance at our trail from the Cornucopia, we start walking.

**Ivan Muskov, District 4**

I watch the snow start to blow into some footprints as the hovercrafts come and the cannons sound out. Seven. Definitely not the best the Careers have done, especially with at least two deaths not even our fault. But that's okay. It just means more tributes still out there to slaughter!

I only got two today, though. That's kind of disappointing. But we'll probably go out hunting before the footsteps fade, right? I'm excited for that. It's kind of windy now, so we shouldn't have to wait for long!

Amantius is going through the swords he's collected. He takes a second before tying one of the sheaths around his waist. After this, he looks round at us suspiciously.

"No one else is getting a sword?" he starts.

"I'm good with my weapon!" I tell him.

"Me, too," says Rica, rubbing her wrist.

Before anyone else can comment, Amantius snorts. "So we have access to the finest weapons Panem can provide, and we choose a baseball bat, a lead pipe, and _cooking utensils_." He gives Yao a look with that last one.

Yao throws his hands in the air.

Rubbing her hand over her longbow, Anglynn shrugs. "If he can kill a person with a ladle, let him. It's all the same in the end, isn't it?"

Amantius still isn't happy. "You could have killed that chick with anything!"

"Wait, what chick?" Rica puts in.

"The blonde with braids," Amantius says.

"The tall one or the scrawny one?"

"Scrawny one."

"Oh." Rica pauses, looking over her shoulder at Yao. "Why did you bother with her, anyway?"

Yao scowls, sweeping some snow out of his pan-pot thing. "The other tributes in range already blew up, aru. And it wasn't like I was going to go without killing anyone in the bloodbath."

"That's okay; we understand," I say, smiling at him.

He looks at me briefly before turning back to his weaponry. My expression fades a little. I thought that was a good way to try and make friends, but… Maybe he's just not that friendly. That's okay. Amantius is kinda grumpy, too, but they're not the only ones in the pack. I could still make a few friends here.

I'm looking forward to that. I don't have any friends back home outside of my family, so it's nice to sort of get a new start out here. I guess no matter who I make friends with, they'll still have to die in the end, but that's okay. As long as I can actually make a friend, I'll be happy.


	16. The Dead

Recommended Listening: That's All by Genesis

* * *

**Romania Viorel, District 6**

I keep hurrying through the snow. I'm still kind of limping, except I did put some snow under the knee of my pants so my injury doesn't hurt too much. It's sort of bad to make myself any colder out here, but I need to gain some ground and all that. And I'm still moving, so I guess it's working.

I'm going to have to take a break soon, though. While the arena's not as totally empty as it seemed at first, there's still not much. I'm headed towards the closest grove of icy trees. It looks dense enough to have some vague sort of shelter available. At least enough for one…

The ground starts to tilt down by my next footstep, so I look down. There's nothing to be alarmed at right now, just a normal little dip, but not too far ahead is a big crack. As I draw carefully closer, I can see just how big the crevasse is. I don't want to be falling down that anytime soon. Let's watch my step a little more careful-like as we keep going here…

I take a big step over, making sure not to drop anything, and keep moving.

**Anissa Dell, District 9**

I try to keep going, but I'm far too tired. It doesn't look like anyone's coming, so I scoop up a little wall of snow behind me, put a folded blanket on the ground, and sit.

I can't help but be paranoid out here, but my thoughts still manage to stay on Liu with some sort of consistency. Just the thought that he's dead already. I didn't want myself to think too much about him having to die at all, but at the bloodbath? He may be—have been—on the thin side, but he was strong enough. More wiry, I guess. But he just ended up next to the wrong tribute on the starting plates…

That's all it takes. One little flub, on whoever's part, and I'm dead, too. And he's already dead. How is he already dead…?

I suck in a few more painfully-cold breaths before peeking over my hiding place. No one's in sight. It was a bit chilly coming up here, but I doubt there's enough space to hide a person. I don't hear anyone, either, so I carefully rise, look again, and gather my blanket. After another sweep of the area, I'm off.

I'm not going anywhere in particular. There aren't many places to go, it looked like. I'll just try to cover as much ground as I can and make a pit or something in the snow to sleep in. I don't really think I have any better options.

Exhaling, I continue walking, even the cushioned crunch of my footsteps seeming too loud. But no one could hear me from the Cornucopia. The real problem is my footprints. But there's no way I could try to cover them up without spending time I don't have. At some point, I might try to start shuffling snow over my path, but…

I look behind me at the dents in the ground. I also see another tribute.

My brain immediately screams to run, while my body freezes up completely as whoever draws nearer. Great fight-or-flight response I have. I feel like it works a lot better when you choose one or the other and stick with it. Flight's definitely a better idea, because I have a sling but no good-looking projectiles, and the other isn't approaching that fast. So run. Run already!

My legs finally thaw out enough to take a step back, but I don't move past that. I know it's not a Career. They actually look pretty weak, and they're not holding anything… Maybe it would be a better idea to approach them? So there's still someone to keep me from being alone…

I only just lost Liu, and I'm already trying to replace him. Sorry… With your kindness, you probably wouldn't mind, but it still makes me feel guilty…

Wait… Is… that actually Liu…?

I stare as the figure lumbers closer. The color of his face is about right, albeit pale, and there's some blood around a tangled part of his hair—

From his death wound. Liu is dead. I saw him dead. I… I'm seeing him now. That's… not compatible. So, either I was seeing things before, or I'm seeing things now. I doubt I would have imagined the injury right, so it must be now. So… I'm seeing things. The first day, and I've already lost it. That's nice…

I take in a shaky breath and turn around. I have to stretch a bit to get my blood flowing a bit better, and then I make myself walk again.

"Uh—Dell!"

My shoulders stiffen as his voice shivers.

"Do you mind waiting a little bit? Just so I can catch up. If that's okay with you."

…And I'm hearing things, too. I don't even…

Though it seems against my better judgment, I stop and turn to watch him approach. Though his jaw is gaping for him to get breath in, he smiles a little. I just try not to look too bewildered as he closes the gap between us.

"Thanks," he pants, rubbing his arms. "I'm sorry if I startled you or anything. I couldn't leave at the same time as you, or the Careers may have realised I was alive."

"But… you weren't alive." It sounds stupid telling this to him, but it's true.

"Er… No, I was. I just played dead until the hovercrafts starting coming for everyone else. Sorry if I worried you. It was just the only way I could think of escaping after he hit me."

"Okay…"

I consider poking him to see if he's real, but I'm already seeing and hearing him. I don't think another form of sensory input would really make that much of a difference.

"Um…" Liu looks behind him for a second and turns back. "We're still allies, right?"

"Yes… And you're alive…"

With a weak laugh, he nods.

"And you're alive. _Alive_."

I look at him a minute longer before it finally feels sensible to believe he's there. He got hit once and played dead, and Ivan went off to hit the next tribute. But that means Ivan doesn't know his own strength well, or that hit really could have killed him. Liu has to at least have a concussion. Wow, how did he make it this far?

"Here," I start, carefully lowering the blanket to spread it out again. "Let's at least try to clean it off while no one's around, and I'll sort of take a look at it, and…" I trail off and nod at the blanket, kneeling down on it.

"Okay." Liu carefully sits. "Be careful, though."

I look back, over the pair of footprints winding towards us.

"I will."

**Egypt Hassan, District 12**

I throw another glance over my shoulder as I continue through the snow. No one seems to be coming this way still. If they haven't been following me, there wouldn't be much of a reason. There doesn't seem to be anything but snow in this direction. But it was the straightest path away from the Cornucopia, so I took it.

I do wish I managed to grab a few things before I left. But Rica was on the plate right next to me, and I get the feeling she's one of the Careers that could easily kill me with her bare hands. Thankfully she didn't end up coming after me.

So, I'm out here with no supplies other than clothing. I'd better have a lot of sponsors, because I don't see myself pulling anything useful out of the snow. And I'm certainly not going to get any of Yana's donations.

That was a pretty horrible way for her to go. That's all I'm going to say. We didn't get very close, and I'm glad of that. She wasn't a friend, just another tribute senselessly ripped to pieces by the Capitol. Here's hoping I don't have to join her.

During another sweep of my surroundings, I see a swath of glasslike tree branches. They're still off in the distance, but they're not hard to make out with nothing but white behind them.

That's probably my best chance of actually finding anything out here. There's nothing on the snow, and it's not as if any one part of the arena is less dangerous than the other, when the Gamemakers control everything. It's at least worth a look.

But as I draw close enough to see some trunks, I also see smooth footprints heading into the grove. Another trail leads in from another direction, though I can't tell from here if it was the same tribute coming out. I wouldn't bet on it.

I watch the false trees a second longer before turning back towards the field of snow. It may be empty, but it's also… well, empty. I want to avoid other tributes as long as I can. And I think I'll survive for a while without any supplies. If nothing else, there's water everywhere.

I walk off into the whiteness.


	17. Rest

Recommended Listening: Sweet Child of Mine by Guns 'N' Roses

* * *

**Holland Mogens, District 7**

I didn't think anything was in this direction until now. I can't say how long I've been on the move, but this must have been pretty far off. It's not as big as the other ice forest seemed, but it has its share of trees.

When I'm finally among the tree skeletons, I look a bit closer and snap off one of the branches. Ice all the way through. It doesn't look like there's any wood around here, so I'll have to make do with the hand warmers for a while. I haven't opened any yet, but they're supposed to last a few hours. I only have a box of fifteen, so I won't get to use them very often.

Hopefully I'll have some wood donated. If I can manage it, this seems like a pretty good spot to stay, for the water if nothing else.

And I mean actual water. While the top of a sort of lake is frozen over, the stream leading into it is still liquid. It can't be very warm, but it's better than just snow. I could probably drink it without worrying about the temperature too much. At least, I won't have to make such an effort to warm it before drinking it, unlike the snow.

Of course, my only way to warm it would be putting it under my clothes or burning through a hand warmer. So we'll just see how well this place suits me, and I'll move if I need to.

I go through the little grove of icicle trees and decide I'll set up what camp I have by the third tree. Its branches look the sharpest, so I'll have some kind of weapon if someone catches me before I earn a real one. Don't feel like I should break anything off just yet, or it might melt some and lose its usefulness.

After another check to see no one's about, I roll out my sleeping bag—it's black, but it's not as if I'm in a genius hiding spot, anyway—set the hand warmers and bag of trail mix inside, and walk over to the pond. Tiny waves peek out from the ice crust on either side. The stream continues to feed more water into the far end, while the side nearest me cuts off abruptly because of a fallen tree. It looks like the water buildup is the tree's fault, though it's just as icy as the others. The branches and roots must dig into the ground enough to keep it stable. At least, stable so far. Maybe I should have camp somewhere other than downhill of it.

I move my sleeping bag to a tree on a safer side of the pond. There aren't any icicle plants farther up, by the stream, so this will have to do.

I get the feeling I probably won't be staying here for long. It's already incredibly difficult not to break down and open one of the hand warmers. But there aren't any actual woods in sight, so this will do for a while.

As for now, I might as well cover up and get some rest before the Careers set off tonight.

**Italo Veneziano, District 10**

I know Ermine said to keep walking until she said stop, but it's hard to put my feet in Riben's footprints, and I'm really tired. So I fold my arms in front of my face and collapse on them. I wanna take a nap, but it's so cold. And I really kinda want to eat first, anyway...

"Italo!" Ermine yells at me, but I don't get up because I'm too tired.

"Don't put yourself in the snow like that, or you'll freeze." She starts to pull me up by the shoulder. "We're far enough to take a short break, but let's at least set something down to insulate us."

I let her tilt me until I'm upright, and then she lets go to take a sleeping bag off her arm. She spreads it on the snow and checks behind us before sitting in the middle. I take the spot on her right, and Riben sits on the other side. He's shaking really hard. I'm shivering, too, but it's not that bad.

"While we're resting," Ermine says, sliding the handles of some other kind of bag down her arm, "let's figure out what supplies we ended up with. Italo?"

"Huh?" I tilt my head to look at her.

She closes her eyes and exhales. "What did you end up grabbing?"

"Oh!" I set down the bag in my right hand and start pulling the backpack off my shoulder. "Um..." It takes a few pulls, but I unzip the top and start going through things. There's a few cans of food, a dark bottle of something, and a knit hat. The other bag I got has a bunch of jerky and some orange juice, but I already knew that, because the food was why I chose it.

I set it all out on the snow and look to Ermine. "Did I do good?"

"Ha!" She looks at the stuff with a grin. "Yes! Definitely a lot better than I expected of you." She pats me on the head. "Good job."

"Yay!"

Ermine starts to pack up the food again before asking Riben what he ended up with.

"Ah. Well..." He turns and carefully empties his armful onto the sleeping bag. "I wasn't able to grab that much, unfortunately..."

"Anything's better than nothing," Ermine replies, moving the food backpack out of my reach as she examines the stuff next to her. Suddenly realising she's trying to keep me from eating things and I'm still hungry, I try to reach after the bag, but she nudges me away.

"So, a box of—" she unlatches the box and opens it—"bandages. Good. Small bag of coal. We could need that. And..." She picks up a string-necklace-looking thingy with spiky things strung on it. Carefully pulling away one of the metal spiky things, she looks and lets it fall back next to the others.

"Throwing stars, I guess," she says. "Haven't used them before, but at least we have some sort of blade." She gives Riben a nod. "Don't worry, you did fine. As for me..."

Ermine sets the crate she had in one arm out in the snow. That lets her unload the second sleeping bag, an extra jacket and a wrinkly blanket wedged underneath it, and a heavy-looking red backpack.

"The crate has wood," she says, starting into the backpack. "I didn't see anything else between the gaps; do you?"

I lean over and look closely into the little missing squares in the sides. "Nope! Just wood."

"All right." She goes through the backpack. There's a flare, an inflatable raft—I hope we get to use that! It sounds fun—two metal water bottles, some eye-dye tablets, an ice axe, and some rope.

"You got a lot of stuff!" I say as she rearranges the things back in the sack.

"Picked the right backpack, I guess. It wouldn't have hurt to get more food, but I'll be grateful for what we have." She zips the backpack up and puts it back on, throwing the rolled-up sleeping bag on her arm, too.

"Are we going to set off again?" Riben asks, starting to gather the things Ermine left out of the bags even though his hands are shaky.

Ermine nods. "Now's definitely the time to keep covering ground. We'll keep ourselves warmed up through moving a while longer, and then we'll settle down and try to start a fire. For now—" she unscrews the lid of one of the water bottles and looks into it—"I guess I'll start melting some snow in here. We'll have water by the time we stop again."

"There's no water for now?" I ask, grabbing at the other bottle to look at it.

"No," she sighs, starting to scoop up snow in her bottle. "We'll have to wait. And don't eat snow!" She pauses to give me a look, and I shrink back. "You'll get way too cold."

"Y-yes'm!"

Ermine fills up the bottle, takes the one I took, and fills it up, too. She puts them under her jacket and turns to give Riben the hat. She's not paying attention to my bag of food. I sneak over and put a hand between the handles.

Ermine grabs my wrist.

With an eep, I try to pull away, but she's not letting go yet.

"Italo." She slowly turns her face towards me. "We're not eating right now." She clamps down on my wrist a little more before letting go.

"I'll go ahead and carry this now," she says, picking up the bag and putting it over an elbow. "Riben, you handle the coal, the bandages, and the blanket. Italo, you get the extra jacket and the sleeping bag. I'll go ahead and roll it up for you."

She rolls it up, and everybody gets up and gets ahold of everything we're supposed to. We start walking again, and my arms are too full to try and get the food.

I guess I'll go ahead and wait, then.


	18. Let Us Do Battle

Recommended Listening: Jane by Jefferson Starship

* * *

**Romania Viorel, District 6**

I keep my arms folded over my knees so I can lean forwards. I'd love to lean back against one of the trees, but they're freakishly cold. Well, I mean, they _are_ made of ice, but still. Wouldn't mind a nice chair right now. A nice, heated chair. They have those in the Capitol, right?

It's really not all that bad. It's freezing, but it's only painfully so on my head and neck—one of my hats would have been nice—and my wrists. And then some of the snow has managed to get into my shoes, but it's just cool water now. Not that I need that on my feet, but they don't seem to be getting too much colder, so... Yeah. No point putting them out in the freezing open if I don't have to. I'd at least want to make a fire first. Wet socks roasting over an open fire...

Not sure how I'll manage the fire, though. I have tinder, but no actual wood. But there has to be some out here somewhere. The Capitol wouldn't just let us all freeze to death again, would they? That's no fun for any of us.

I take a deep breath but end up coughing it back out. Ugh, it's so cold. At least Yana doesn't have to deal with it. I mean, if she really had to die, at least it was before she could suffer much, right? And it still looked cool. She's probably glad she doesn't have to deal with all of this stuff, right? I just wish she didn't have to leave me alone. I'm going to get ridiculously paranoid out here without anyone to watch my back.

Right about on cue, I hear a little crunch. It's soft, but it's so quiet out here otherwise it doesn't take much to catch it.

I look round, pivoting on my rear carefully so I don't twist my knee the wrong way. Someone's just standing to the side of one of the trees. I guess hiding behind it wouldn't do him any good since it's clear, but...

I don't remember this guy. I know I've seen him, but I can't remember his name or interview angle. Wait—I think he's from Seven. Right?

Maybe-Seven is watching me, thinking. I don't know what he's planning, but he has a sword sheath round his waist, and I don't think I'll be able to run away.

After a minute, I start, "Hi."

"Hi to you, too," he responds slowly, shifting his weight to one foot.

He doesn't seem too crazy. "What was your name again?"

"Turk." He pauses. "Romania, right?"

"Yup."

We sort of stay here awkwardly before Turk takes a few steps towards me and extends a hand.

"Stand up, and we'll fight."

I put my chin on my knees. "I don't really want to fight. Is that okay?"

Turk looks over his shoulder and then turns back. "No. Come on." He rests his other hand on the sword handle. "You don't have that much of a choice."

"Not cool." I frown at him for a second before finally letting him help me up.

"All right!" He cracks his knuckles. "I'll be fair—the girl gets the first hit."

"If you say so."

I consider kneeing him in the groin, but that's kind of mean to someone who's letting me have the first hit, anyway. So I punch him in the face.

He takes a step back, but I don't have time to retreat before he knocks me back. Thin branches snap behind my neck and shoulders, and I have to grip at the smooth trunk to keep myself from falling on my butt. Turk takes advantage of my lack of balance, kneeing me in the gut. I bend in two, grabbing some branches above even though I'm still tilting backwards. I'm definitely not going to be able to kick him with a dysfunctional knee, but I'm better at that than punching...

I duck under his next punch and then grab the branches again. With a grunt, I manage to lift myself off the ground long enough to smack a foot to Turk's chest, and he staggers back as I swing back. These gloves aren't the best for grabbing, so I lose my grip after that, but I manage to land on my feet without twisting my knee.

Turk's stepping back towards me now. I go ahead and try another punch at his head, but he blocks and jabs my stomach with his other fist. I cringe but punch at his jaw with my left hand. His head whips to the side a bit, and I'm able to get to his side before he recovers. I send an elbow into his stomach, but he grabs my wrist before I finish and twists my arm round. With a screech, I jerk myself out of his grip, but he gets a punch to the back of my head before I can hit him.

I struggle to turn myself back around as my feet slip over the surface of the snow. One boot finally breaks through, and I carefully pivot, a twinge of pain shooting up my injured leg. Turk's already coming at me, and my attempt to block his next punch is too slow. Stomach pulsing with pain, I go for another punch to his face, but he ducks and delivers a whirling kick to my side. I stumble a bit, and he gets low, swinging his foot in another arc to knock my feet from under me.

I can't keep my knee from twisting this time.

With an extra-high-pitched scream, I collapse to the ground, pulling my knee up and wrapping my hands round it.

Though a bunch of snow is in front of one eye, I see Turk getting down on his knees to inspect me.

"Whoa, are you okay?" he starts.

"He asks after beating me up?"

He opens his mouth and pauses. "Okay, you have a point. But... what's wrong with your knee?"

"Got hit by a baseball bat—" he sucks in a breath at that—"and getting it twisted up fighting doesn't help!"

"Oh. Uh, sorry." He looks to the side. "So, do we need to put ice on it, I guess?"

I give him a weird look. It takes him a minute to figure out why.

"Right, from the guy that just beat you up." Starting to scoop some snow up, he shrugs. "I wasn't out to kill you or anything, you know. But..." He grins at me, putting a hand on his chin for a moment before pointing at me. "I have deemed you worthy of joining my alliance!"

"Uh..." The pain starts to ebb into this evening's battle wounds. "Your alliance?" I crane my neck to see if anyone else is around.

He hunkers down a little. "Well... My new alliance. Just us, so far." He starts to put his wad of snow to my knee but stops, a gleam in his eye, and holds the ice away tauntingly. "You accept, don't you?"

Well... It seems kind of harsh to move on this quickly, but I could use an ally. Especially one who's vaguely nice and looks like he could bear to carry me around if my knee gets way out of whack. Hopefully it doesn't get to that point, but I'm definitely not at my best fighting capacity to go this alone.

"Yeah." I move my hands carefully to let him press the snow to my knee. It feels great. "But I do have to wonder why you felt the need to beat your ally to a pulp."

He laughs. "Oh, you'll be fine. This is just my best source of amusement."

"So, when you're bored, you like to wail on helpless little girls."

"Pah!" He pushes more snow around my knee. "I'm not like that! Usually I just beat up my brother, but, ah... He's not really here right now."

"Ah, I see." I start rubbing a little snow over where all I got punched. I'm going to have a lot of bruises. At least I won't be able to see any under all of this fluff. On that note, it's pretty hard to put ice on anything without it being too insulated for enough cold to get through. But I can't really complain.

Can't complain about too much right now. It hasn't been the most pleasant day, but I ended up with some supplies, and an ally after all. He seems like a pretty strange cookie so far, but it could work out.

Might even be fun.


	19. In for the Night

Recommended Listening: Lay It Down by Journey

* * *

**Cisca Lemieux, District 1**

A cloud-blurred disc of light hovers above the horizon. The sun's been in the same reddish spot for a while now, so I'm starting to think this is as close to sundown as we're going to get. Even with the light this dampened, the snow is such a good reflector things are still lit up. I hope it gets darker before it's time to turn in for the night. I'll have terrible bags under my eyes if I can't sleep enough out here.

It looks like I'm not the only one that's decided it's nighttime.

"So, who's staying behind tonight?" Ivan starts, getting to his feet.

The rest of us, crowded on the side of the Cornucopia crater out of the wind, look at each other. This doesn't include Rica, who's already covered up in a sleeping bag.

"I say we all stay behind," she says, folding her hands behind her head. "I was too excited to get any sleep last night, so I'm catching some now. And there's no way I'm missing out on the first night hunt, so we should just all turn in for tonight. And Ivan gets to take watch 'til morning." She throws a layer of sleeping bag over her head. "Night, everyone."

Amantius looks at her sideways. "Are you being serious right now?"

"Yeah." She pokes her head back out of the bag long enough to take her glasses off. "And I mean, judging by your crappy mood, it wouldn't hurt for you to get more sleep, either."

As the Two mutters something under his breath, Ivan leans back against the snow.

"Well, I still want to go out," says the taller of the two. "It wouldn't be very nice to the Capitol if we didn't provide entertainment tonight, don't you think?"

Refusing to acknowledge Ivan by coming out of the bag, Rica responds, "We're not the only ones in the arena, you know. The Capitol's plenty powerful enough to make something happen if they want to. So shut up and let us go to bed."

"Fine, go to bed," Amantius says, standing up himself. "I'm going off hunting." He looks over his shoulder at Ivan. "You're coming too, right?"

Ivan says yes, and Rica pops out of the bag to say no.

"Have you not been listening to me?" she grumbles, rubbing an eye. "No one's going anywhere tonight! Now grab a bag and go to sleep, or I'll just knock you out. Don't think I won't. Ugh." She pulls the covers back over her head.

I catch Anglynn pulling one of the bags out. She gets it spread before her brother gives her a look.

"What?" she responds, frowning. "It's not that bad an idea, really. Let all the paranoids wear themselves out tonight and get them later. It won't hurt anything, and it's not like you'll be bored if you're asleep anyway."

It's actually a pretty sensible argument. Unfortunately her asking her "friends" for agreement doesn't help it out much.

I'm not sure what to do myself when Amantius takes an unhappy look round. Yao has already crawled into a sleeping bag, and Anglynn is throwing an extra blanket over herself. The only ones not about to sleep are Ivan, Amantius, and me. I really don't want to take sides at this point, but Rica can't see me right now, so I'll just...

"I guess I'll just sleep, then," Ivan says suddenly, wandering over to the Cornucopia to grab a bag.

Amantius and I both stare at him. Did he really just let Rica win? Except, she informed him he'd be keeping watch, so I guess he's still showing her up. So, that leaves just me and Amantius awake. Not much of a hunting crew there.

I glance at the Two a second before he returns my gaze.

He sighs. "I'd tell you to take first watch, but you're probably pretty useless on that front."

"Well..." I don't want to step on any toes, but I can't let him think that about me, either. "I'm not a Career, but I can look round and come wake someone just as well as anyone else. I'd see people from a good distance away out here, anyway."

"Hm." His expression hasn't changed from his usual scowl, though he's now looking off into the long-lived sunset instead of scrutinising me.

I let out an exhale to get his attention and smile at him. "Go ahead and rest—I've got it covered. Better I lose sleep than you, right?"

He looks at me sideways. Without any particular tone of sarcasm, he says, "Hate for you to lose any beauty sleep, though."

I put a hand under my jaw and tilt my head with a smile. "I think I could withstand a few hits there, don't you think?"

"Probably." He looks at me sideways. "You a good kisser?"

"Hm?" I don't let too much surprise show on my face. "I've been told that, yes."

"Good." And with that, he gets a blanket and goes to his sleeping bag. He doesn't say anything else before he wriggles into the bag and closes his eyes.

Er... That was sudden. Too sudden and from the wrong person for the proper feelings to be behind it, but I've had worse boyfriends before. And if he wants me about for any reason, I have a good anchor in the Career group.

Thoughts still whirling through my head, I climb to the top of the indent and keep an eye out.

**Ermine Lutz, District 10**

The sun still hasn't set, but my district token says it's 20:00. Looks like we're about done for the day. There's no telling exactly when the Careers or anyone else will set out, but it'll take a while to get everything set up.

"We'll go ahead and set up camp here," I say, going ahead and sweeping snow over one last set of footprints. There may still be some tracks in our direction, but I started covering them once we didn't have to worry as much about keeping up a good pace. Even if our original path was followed, the Careers should still be thrown off when they reach that point.

I commission Riben to help me scoop out snow, and then I dig into the ground a bit with the ice axe. I put in an extra air tunnel to minimise smoke, set up some wood, and eventually get a fire going.

"Since we're done moving," I say, unpacking the sleeping bag we're not sitting on right now, "you two should go to sleep now. It's still a bit early, but hopefully we marched enough to get you pretty tired."

Riben nods, and Italo follows suit.

"Can we have some more jerky before we go to bed?" my district partner pipes up. "Please?"

"No. Just sleep." I set up the extra jacket to sit on.

"Okay," Italo says sadly, shuffling into his bag. He watches Riben curl up in the other sleeping bag before suddenly sitting up. "But Ermine! Where are you going to sleep?"

I exhale. "I'm not going to sleep yet. If I sleep, who's going to take watch?"

"Ohh. Then, wake me when it's time to switch, okay?" Italo responds, lowering himself. "Good night, Ermine!"

"Good night."

**Egypt Hassan, District 12**

Flicking some snow out of my glove, I continue to make a tunnel. It'll be about as long as I am tall, and fairly wide. It's all I have for shelter, so I'll do my best making it.

The wind has died down to nothing since the long twilight started, so I'm really just making this to keep hidden. I'll still be visible through the opening, but from a distance no one should suspect I'm here.

And that's how I'll be playing this whole game. Stay out of sight, hopefully out of mind, and only do enough to survive. With my lack of supplies—and the lack of much of anything out here—that might include killing for sponsors. I don't know. In any case, I'll wait until it's necessary before I let myself worry about it.

I test the snow before carefully sliding into my burrow. It's big enough now, so I'll stop and get some rest. Can't say if or when I'll set out in the morning. I'll just have to see what happens.

I grab a handful of outside snow to melt and make myself comfortable.


	20. Assistance

Recommended Listening: Message in a Bottle by The Police

* * *

**Cuba Machado, District 11**

I look over my shoulder at Nada. "Are you sure you want to keep going?"

Panting, she takes a minute to sweep over our footprints before catching up with me.

"Yeah," she says, quiet as ever. She swallows. "No reason to stop if we can still see and we're not too tired."

"And you're sure you're not too tired?"

After an effort to slow her breathing, she nods. "Mmm-hmm." And then she stops. "But you're not tired, are you? I'm sorry if I've been making you keep going—"

"Nada, I'm fine." I smile. "I'm used to tough work. I can handle some walking as long you're up for it."

"O-okay." She nods again. "Let's walk, then."

"All right."

I take the lead again. Since I can't be one hundred percent sure we aren't being followed, I'd really rather be in the back. But Nada's quicker at covering up our footprints, and the snow's pretty unpredictable. I think I'd recover a lot faster from a false step than her. And it definitely wouldn't be very nice to make her take the lead when she's not doing too well keeping up.

We only go on for a minute before the ground dips enough to make me stumble. I catch myself and examine the ground.

"Another little fissure up here," I tell Nada, watching her pull closer. "Not big enough to fall into, but enough to trip you."

"Okay."

I wait another minute to let her finish covering the latest stretch of footprints, and then I set off again.

It's not long before I make out something in the distance. It's darker than the little patches of ice trees, but I can't make out any details in the low light.

I point it out to Nada to make sure she sees it, too. She adjusts her glasses before saying, "Yeah, there's definitely something over there. Do you want to check it out?"

"Might as well."

Nada nods in assent, and we re-angle our course a bit to head for the blur. It's a lot farther than I thought, but I guess that's just because nothing else is out here. I think it works the same way for things floating in the Gulf. Haven't been near the water for a while now, though...

Speaking of water, I go ahead and check the flask I stuck between my shirts. The snow's melted at last, but the water only fills half the container.

I offer Nada our canteen. "You want a drink before I put more snow in?"

"Yeah." She carefully wraps her hands around the metal and takes a drink. Shivering suddenly, she takes another few sips before handing the flask back. She still left me some to drink. At least she's not trying to be overly polite about it anymore. Maybe she's starting to get used to me. Or maybe she's just too tired to do much talking. Hopefully it's the first.

I go ahead and down a little drink before filling the flask back up and putting it back where I had it. Once I shake off the chills from the freezing thing being so close to my skin, we get back to walking. Little by little, the blur draws closer.

Nada's able to make out a few things before I am. There are several types of boxes and bags, but only after it's a stone's throw away can we figure out what they are.

They're just... supplies. Sleeping bags, small crates of wood, mesh bags of food, and some solid boxes with who-knows-what in them. They're all in a tidy pile in the middle of the snow. I don't feel like it's something another tribute just left behind.

"Is... that what it looks like?" Nada asks, taking a step past me.

"As far as I can tell. Some pretty good-looking stuff, huh?"

Nada nods, and we stand there looking for a second before she sighs. "One-hundred percent chance it's a trap?"

"Pretty much." I cross my arms. "But you know we don't have any food. It might be worth the risk."

"Yeah, but..." Frowning, she rubs at her face to warm it.

"Hmm..." I look at the goods before starting to paw through the snow by my feet.

"Cuba? What are you doing?"

"Huh?" I pause a second to look over my shoulder at her. "Seeing if there's a rock or something to throw at it. See if that triggers anything before we get there, right?"

I turn back to my feet, finally reaching the ground but not finding anything loose.

"Oh—well, here," Nada starts.

I stand back up, slapping snow off my gloves to watch her gather some of the white stuff and crunch it together in her hands. A minute later, she presents a nice-looking snowball.

"Will this work?"

I carefully take it from her. "Definitely!"

I toss it up a bit to get its weight.

Nada, meanwhile, looks back over at the supply pile. "Can you throw it that far?"

"Of course I can!" Nada looks like she's about to apologise, so I continue, "I've got a mean pitching arm."

Just for kicks, I do a whole windup stance before hurling the snowball at the pile. It flies for a minute and then crashes into pieces on top of one of the closed boxes. Nothing happens. A minute later, still nothing has happened.

To be safe, I ask Nada to make a few more, and I throw them at different parts of the pile, but nothing happens.

"I'm starting to think it's not booby-trapped," I say, letting my arm fall to my side after the fifth snowball.

Smoothing over the place she took snow from, Nada nods. "We... should go ahead and check it out, then?"

"Don't see why not. I'll still go first, okay?"

Not sounding very sure, Nada says, "Okay."

Keeping an eye out for anything unusual, we start to creep forwards.

**Zavann Liu, District 9**

I've been keeping watch for a while now, but I'm not sure if it's time to switch yet.

I didn't want to wake Dell at all at first, but I don't think I'll be able to stay up. I can usually stay up all night without much of a problem, but my eyelids are pushing down harder every second. I guess I'm tired. I've come a long way, with my head injury, no less.

It's really not that bad. I have a pretty nasty goose egg back there, but it doesn't take much effort to keep from bumping the back of my head on things. My head still hurts, and I've thrown up a few times, but other than that, I've been fine. As far as I can tell.

Good thing I got hit by somebody who wanted to kill as many as possible. If anyone more careful was after me, I could be dead.

But my picture wasn't in the sky tonight. Or so Dell told me, since I was asleep. Just seven others, though. I don't remember who.

Seven, though. It's really not that much for a bloodbath, but it's still a lot. Seven kids about my age dead already. But there's nothing I can do about that. Nothing I can do about most of this. I'll just help out Dell and do whatever I think I should.

So if I let her sleep a little bit longer...

Taking a deep breath of chilly air, I take another look round. Nothing but snow. And the crevasse pretty close to us. It's the second one we've crossed out here. This one's harder to see, though, so maybe anyone coming after us would fall in. I don't know. We haven't decided for sure if we're going to just stay here for camp. We won't have enough supplies to last long, but there doesn't seem to be anything else to find. Nothing but snow.

I look over where Dell is curled up in the blanket. A minute of hesitation passes before I suddenly remember she told me not to stay up too long, anyway. So, it more be less polite to disregard her wishes than to wake her, right? I hope she sees it that way, too.

I hold my breath for a second before finally going to wake her. It takes a little shaking of her shoulder to rouse her, but she doesn't take long to get up after that. Yawning, she puts on her glasses, rubs her eyes underneath them, and shuffles out of the covers.

"Thanks for waking me," she says indistinctly, unfolding the blanket. "Try to get a lot of sleep, all right? Don't feel bad if I don't wake you 'til noon."

"All right."

I slowly lower myself onto the blue fabric and pull the ends over myself. Carefully setting my head down on its side, I close my eyes and wait until sleep comes.


	21. Laughter

Recommended Listening: Abacab by Genesis

* * *

**Turk Adnan, District 7**

"Hey. Sun's up a little more if you want to wake up today."

Groggy, I shift a bit, and something prods my stomach from underneath. It takes me a minute to realise it's the sword handle. I went ahead and slept on top of it last night, so Romania couldn't get to it. It's not that I don't trust her, it's just... I don't _trust_ her. If that makes any sense.

I push myself up to a seated position and start to fasten the sheath back around my waist. Looking down like this, I notice that my jacket zipper is missing.

Er... What?

I feel over the middle of the fabric, and there's no zipper anywhere. Um... This did have a zipper, right?

"Uh, Turk?"

I look up at Romania, who's giving me a weird look. Her jacket has a zipper. So mine definitely has one. Or had?

"What happened to my zipper?" I start, pointing at her torso.

She looks down to examine the front of her coat and looks back at me before snickering. "Your jacket's on backwards, dork."

"Wha..." I stretch and feel at my back. Sure enough, the zipper's back there. "Hold on. I know my stylist did not put this on me backwards. And I sure don't remember flipping it myself." I give her a look. "Did you...?"

"Wasn't me." Romania crosses her arms. "It was normal yesterday. Maybe you were sleepwalking and messed with it."

"What? I don't sleepwalk," I say, struggling to pull at the zipper handle that's barely within reach. "If I even went as far as my brother's room, he would have punched me awake."

I undo the zipper and start to shuffle the jacket back round. The process is uncomfortably cold, so I try to hurry. If nothing else, the freeze wakes me up a bit more.

After watching me for a minute, Romania starts, "Maybe you're one of those stress sleepwalkers, then."

"One of what?"

Romania tilts her head a bit. "You know, a stress sleepwalker. It's what it sounds like. I hear it happens in the Games a lot, actually."

I frown. "I haven't seen much of that."

"Well, they don't show it live when anything else is going on. You think a random tribute wandering asleep is much fun to watch?"

"Guess not." I finally get the coat zipped up the right way. "So I'm a... stress sleepwalker? Huh..."

We sit for a minute, contemplating, before Romania looks at me and bursts out laughing.

I start. "What?"

"Of course I did it, you _moron!"_ She doubles over in stitches while I just sort of stare.

" 'Stress sleepwalker...' I can't believe you fell for that..." She makes an effort to start stifling her laughter before I realise I've been had.

"Sh-shut up!" I say, crossing my arms. "It's too early in the morning for me to think!"

Just when she gets it under control, she looks back up at me and breaks down laughing again.

"I need coffee, okay?" I defend before sighing and putting my hand to my face. Definitely ended up with an interesting ally...

How asleep _was_ I for her to do that? She would have had to pretty much pick me up, and...

Wait. If she did that... she could have taken the sword without a hitch. But she didn't touch the thing.

I try to laugh with her as I paw through the supply pile for breakfast.

**Nada Ott, District 11**

There really isn't anything wrong with these supplies. The sleeping bags were fine, nothing has anything that might explode or something, and one of the boxes even had perfectly good knives. And Cuba's still fine after testing a little bit of the food.

Basically, something's going to go horribly wrong because of this, but I have no idea what.

I sigh. Nothing I can do about that. This is probably the only food we'll find in a while—if not at all—so I'll have to break down and eat some eventually. And I am awfully hungry. But I still can't be sure...

Cuba rolls up his sleeping bag and tries to shove it back in its cover. "Are you sure you don't want breakfast before we head out again? It's going to be a long day."

"I'm all right," I say, rearranging some wood so I can fit knives in the same box. "It hasn't been long since you ate, and you could still get sick. We should wait a bit before we try to eat any more."

"Okay." He finally manages to get most of the sleeping bag in its case and proceeds to tie the case closed. "Did you want to wait here instead of running off on an empty stomach?"

"No, no, we should get going." I close the lid on this box and look through another one. "Staying here is making me paranoid."

Cuba puts his bag on his back and gets started packing mine. "You know nothing happened while either of us was asleep, right?"

"Yes, and we're pushing it by sticking around," I respond, pausing to look him in the eye. "I'll be fine if we get going now. I promise."

"All right."

We return to our work, and we have as much as we're comfortable with packed up. Each of us will carry a sleeping bag, I'll carry a few bags of food and the tote bag, and Cuba will carry another bag of food and the crate of wood and knives. We're still leaving a lot behind. Maybe I won't blot out our footprints from here. Though that seems kind of careless... But altogether abandoning so many supplies would be kind of careless, too...

I hold the food to my torso and look at the snow, wondering what I should do.

"Nada?"

"Hm?" I turn towards Cuba to see him looking elsewhere. Starting to get nervous, I follow his gaze until I see the fuzzy blob. It's hard to make out from the snow, but its fur is a little yellowish. It's slowly ambling towards us, but it's not that far away.

I catch Cuba carefully pulling out one of the knives.

"Oh, don't attack it!" I start, keeping my voice hushed.

He takes a second to figure out what I said and nods. "I won't hit first." I sort of cringe at his regular volume of speech. "Don't know what kind of bear it is, but I bet its mama wouldn't be happy to find it hurt."

I nod, keeping an eye on the bear. It doesn't look like Cuba's voice irritated him. He's coming in our direction, but more slowly. He's awfully cute... If I didn't know he was out to kill me, I'd want to pet him.

The cub comes within a few metres before sitting down and watching us. I feel trapped. He doesn't look that harmful, but he's probably here because of the pile of supplies. I don't want to provoke him, and moving might do that. But I don't want to stay so close to him, either. We don't have much of a choice but to wait...

After a minute of looking at us, the bear shuffles and flops onto his side. It isn't long before he looks asleep. Cuba and I stay in place for a moment, but he doesn't wake up again.

"Maybe it's been walking for a while," Cuba says.

I glance at the tuckered out little cub and put a hand over my mouth, giggling.

Cuba chuckles and takes an experimental step away. It doesn't rouse the bear.

We tiptoe away until the sleeping cub disappears behind the snow.

**Holland Mogens, District 7**

I feel like I slept in. Or at least slept well, besides getting up from the cold. Unusual for the Hunger Games, but no one appears to have killed me in my sleep, so I have no problem with it.

A bit unusual for me, too, but there's no garden to tend and no breakfast to cook. And without a way to keep precise track of time, there's not much of a point in worrying about it.

I take a look round and shuffle out of my sleeping bag. Tucking the used hand warmers into the bottom of the bag—I burnt through three of them in the night—I straighten things out for a minute and get my canteen. I down the last swig of water and head back to the stream to refill it.

I think the lake's risen a bit. There's still some indent left, and my camp is uphill, so it's not of much concern. As long as the tree at its end holds—or doesn't; it still wouldn't affect me—it doesn't make much of a difference. The stream's of the most concern to me. If it's still flowing, I might as well stay near by.

There's still the issue of food, but I don't think moving increases my chances much. My best bet is scoring a kill, and I'll have better luck in battle if the other tribute is the one wearing himself out.

But first things first. Let's get my water.


	22. Find a Path

Recommended Listening: A Job To Do by Genesis

* * *

**Anglynn Redulite, District 2**

I wrap my fingers tightly round my cup of tea. It's hard to decide what's nicer—the warmth seeping through my gloves or swimming down my throat. Either way, I'm glad we had this. Helps wake me up, since I took one of the watches last night.

Rica, on the other hand, is ready and raring to go. She already finished the single pack of bacon we had—horrible shame, that—in half the time it's taking us to finish our rations. Though the rest of us are all eating at about the same rate, she, of course, singles out Ivan.

"Could you hurry up?" She crosses her arms, pouting. "We shouldn't be putting off the first big hunt just because you had to go for seconds."

Ivan takes a second to chew. "But we put it off so you could sleep."

"But that was necessary. You making yourself fatter isn't."

"You really like calling me fat, don't you?"

Rica humphs, lowering her hands over the fire again. "It's just because you are."

Ivan takes a swig from his canteen agonisingly slowly. "Not because you're pudgy and want to feel better about yourself?"

I get the distinct feeling Ivan is about to die as Rica slowly rises. Not taking her wide-eyed gaze off her district partner for a second, she adjusts her grasp on her baseball bat with both hands and grips it so tight I swear the metal's beginning to buckle beneath her fingers.

"I'm sorry, Ivan," she says sweetly. "What was that?"

"Hm?" Mid-bite, Ivan looks up at her. "Well, being so defensive isn't going to help your case much."

Rica laughs slowly, batting arms twitching. "You're going to die a painful death... you—filthy—Communist..."

"Communist?" Amantius echoes, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh!" Ivan looks over his shoulder to smile at him. "I don't know what it means, either, but it's Rica's worst insult. Apparently she heard it in a movie once."

"Okay." He waves a hand. "Go back to killing each other, please."

"No, please don't," I put in after draining the last of my cup. "Or could it at least wait until after today's hunt? No point in wearing out or losing you this early on, if you can survive a bit longer in each other's presence."

"And that's the kicker," says Rica through gritted teeth.

Ivan is still smiling sunnily.

"Really, aru. Can we go?" Yao says now that he's finished his own breakfast.

By now, everyone's in some sort of agreement except Rica. She has now progressed to a slightly saner death glare but hasn't given up the fight just yet.

"You," she finally growls, pointing the bat at Ivan's nose. "You're dying when we get back."

Ivan gets up, sweeping some snow off his legs as he once again towers over Rica. "We shall see."

Cisca rubs a finger over the dagger in her sheath and says, "Who'll stay and watch the supplies?"

"I volunteer Anglynn," my brother says. "We'll be travelling long distances, and I don't think she could take it."

"Excuse me!" I stand to get in his face a bit. "I can handle a bit of walking perfectly fine! If you're worried about endurance, how about you pick on the one of us that hasn't been trained for this?"

After popping me in the jaw, he looks over at Cisca, who blinks.

"Probably not going to be our best defence," he says.

"We won't really know until we try, though, will we?" Cisca responds, moving closer to Amantius and the little fire. "If you think any non-Careers are threats, you shouldn't count me out too much."

"The only non-Career worth worrying about is Ermine," Rica says. "Speaking of which, we might as well go after her while we're at our healthiest." She looks out at the edges of the Cornucopia bowl. "Which way did she go? You marked the footprints, right, Anglynn?"

I clap my hands together. "Yes, I did. But did anyone actually see which way her alliance went? I'm not sure which prints are hers."

Amantius excuses himself from his conversation with Cisca to say, "It'll be the only set of three footprints. If you haven't even figured that out... Well, I'm not really that surprised."

"I knew that!" I cross my arms. "But there _weren't_ any sets of three. Singles, doubles, but no triples. Either her alliance broke up, or one of them didn't leave any prints."

"I see." Amantius pauses. "Do you think one of them was hitching a ride with fairies?"

"We shouldn't jump to conclusions," I say, giving him a look. "Ermine could have easily been carrying Riben, though I couldn't tell from the prints since she's quite heavy on her own. If that's the case, our best bet is that pair." I gesture towards one edge of the bowl. "If she was alone, the deepest set of single tracks is over there. They're fairly large, too, so it's not just someone small with a heavy load."

As Ivan goes towards the faint remains of one of the footprints I mentioned, I look round the top of the bowl. "And Romania's were over there. Aside from that, I couldn't tell any of the others, since we're all in the same outfits and such."

"Yeah, okay." Rica nods, moving out a bit to climb to the top of the bowl. "So which one was Ermine again?"

"I just told you—" I cut off, shaking my head. "That one," I guess, waving a hand towards where I marked the single tracks.

"All right!" Rica says, arms akimbo. "Let's move out!"

Yao tells her to hold it a minute as he gets some food together—it'll probably be a whole day's journey, after all. For some reason my brother decides to stay on guard himself, and without much ado, the rest of us are off.

**Egypt Hassan, District 12**

I'm not going to survive like this.

I managed not to freeze to death overnight, but at this rate I'll probably ending up taking the same risk tonight. In the same place, unless I manage to head off again without going in a circle.

I'm not even sure how long I was walking since I can't see the sun. Long enough to be tired.

I should probably set out again. There has to be something in this place that's not occupied, right? I haven't reached the edge yet. I can't give up all hope. I still have to get home. My brothers are waiting for me.

After a minute of shivering, I decide to try again. I can still tell which way I came, with the direction the tunnel opening faced, so it shouldn't hurt me. I'll go ahead and leave footprints to make it easier on me, though. I'm already a day away from the Cornucopia, so I doubt they'd find me this far.

But anything's possible. I'm just going to head out and hope for something.

It's not long before the sky is too dark for me to clearly see the trail behind me. Has night really fallen? I don't feel quite hungry enough for it to have been that long. But maybe it's just the weight I put on in the Capitol...

The ground quivers as something behind me rumbles.

I turn to look, but I can't see anything save a few of my footprints—until the flash of light in the distance. Just a thunderstorm. No rain in my area yet, but that's not too unusual.

Keeping an eye on the general area of my footprints, I wait for the next burst to light things up. It comes after a few seconds, and I turn to walk again, sure of my direction.

The booming starts to increase in frequency, though I still can't hear any rain. Although I guess it would be snow in this temperature, anyway. That's good—getting soaking wet at this temperature would be terr—

With a shrieking roar, I'm blown off my feet. The lightning that was miles away has instantly jumped in front of me, and a jagged glow still crosses my vision as I tumble back onto the snow. Bits of white sweep everywhere in a sudden wind trying to push me back farther, and I try to figure out what I'm supposed to do. I can't just run into the house or the nearest shop. That's all I know to do. What...

Trying to ignore the weak buzz that's all my ears are giving me, I look for anywhere that could be safe, but there's nothing about but snow.

So I just stay close to the ground and hope the Gamemakers aren't targeting me as the bolts continue to flash.


	23. Immediate Danger

Recommended Listening: Escape by Journey

* * *

**Holland Mogens, District 7**

About the time I finally get some wood donated, the storm hits.

I can't see any rain in the distance, but I pack the fire kit back up and watch the clouds. Looks like a lightning storm. It's probably not the best idea to be within arm's reach of so many icy lightning poles.

The rumbling getting louder, I start to move camp before pausing. It's not the trees that attract lightning, it's the relative height. If I get too far, I might as well be a tree in an open field. It might still be dangerous in the forest, but nowhere out here is going to be completely safe.

I get a handful of sleeping bag in my grip and start to move my supplies along the ground when the first bolt hits my forest. I'm not sure exactly where—somewhere behind me. But it was close enough to send me blinking from its reflections.

Throwing a look over my shoulder, I make sure nothing's on fire or about to fall. But everything looks stable. I guess ice trees wouldn't catch fire, anyway...

I drag camp over towards what seems like the area with the shortest trees. Letting go of the fabric, I start to straighten out the bag when the top of my forehead prickles.

The second I realise my hair's starting to stand up, I jump back, coming down in a tumble that's painful but lower to the ground. I'm still in the process of landing when the lightning bolt races towards me then zags to hit a tree at the last second.

The tree's edges soften as the bolt engulfs it, but the lightning is no sooner drawn back to the clouds than little currents start racing down the melted sides of the tree and onto the snow's surface.

They don't say "fast as lightning" for nothing. I'm still down here gasping and coming to a sliding stop when the miniature bolts sprawl out across melted spots of snow, and I cannot get out of the way.

But the closest few die down before they reach me, and the ground is appreciably safe by the time I get up. But the air is still rumbling on all sides, and not even the snow is safe.

I quickly get to my sleeping bag, lift up the cargo atop it, and lie down. Far from the sky and not on the ground. This should be as safe as I can get.

Slowing my breathing, I watch the dark sky as arcs leap everywhere from it. I'm not the only one being targeted, at least. I don't know if anyone's been killed—it'd be hard to hear cannons in this—but it's certainly tense. If the Capitol gets enough excitement from this, maybe I won't be targeted with something else.

The short clap of nearby thunder comes from behind, and I go ahead and look to see if any smaller arcs are coming my way. I can't figure out where exactly the strike was until I see one of the trees by my normal camp starting to tilt. A bit odd to watch a tree fall with no one hollering, "Timber!" anywhere.

The struck tree comes down with a tinkling crash on the surface of the lake.

And then the surface of the lake cracks.

The two semicircles of covering ice tilt towards each other in the air, and a sizeable double wave leaps over the ever-obstructing tree when they slap back down to the surface.

Of course, at this point I'm directly below this, in the freezing wave's path.

Swearing loudly, I hurry back to my feet, snap up my supplies—at least they don't weigh much—and sprint at a right angle as the water rushes down the slope. It's certainly not enough to get me drowned, but it could knock me off my feet into a nice pond of severe hypothermia that I couldn't afford.

The cold air hurts as I suck it in fast, hurrying over a hill of snow as the water looms closer and the sky still rumbles. But I'm not going out like this, and I know I could push myself a little bit harder...

Water sweeps past tree trunks as I finally get out of the wave's range. Still not safe, I quickly put the sleeping bag down and lie on it again. I'm off into the open field now, but the trees weren't that awfully safe, so I think it's a fine deal.

I work to quiet my breathing, watching the sky and keeping an ear out for the next threat.

**Riben Wang, District 6**

It's starting to get quiet now. The rolling thunder that's been shaking the ground all day has quieted down a lot. It wasn't much trouble to us otherwise. One lightning bolt struck fairly close to camp, and that sent Italo into more of a panic. Ermine ended up having to sort of, er, strangle him to keep him from screaming and running in circles. It was a bit awkward to watch.

But things are settled down now. Ermine's given us our supper rations, and we refilled the bottles with snow. Italo's dozing on one of the bags, I'm seated on the other, and Ermine occupies a folded blanket. She's hunched over, still struggling to light another fire. Understandable, since we don't have any tinder like in the Training Centre.

I watch a minute before slowly starting, "Um, would you want me to take over for a minute?"

"Ah?" Ermine stops, looking over at me. "Sure. Go ahead."

She sets the pieces of wood in the pit and flexes her fingers as I scoot the sleeping bag closer to the pile. I pick up some suitable pieces and start trying to light them.

After a minute, Ermine breaks the silence. "Did you light many fires back home?"

"Ah, no." There wasn't a fireplace in my room. Thankfully I had plenty of covers to bundle up under when winter came round. "I only just started in the Capitol."

Ermine just nods as I continue trying to get a spark without success. I feel like I should say something else, but I'm not sure what...

I try for a little longer before Ermine asks to give it another shot herself. With a nod, I hand over the pieces of wood and scoot back on the sleeping bag.

"Dad took care of starting the fires in our house," she says, hunching over to get started again. "I still had him teach me, of course, but he was always better at it. A lot more years of experience, I guess." She pauses to blow at an ember, but it dies before it can spread. Nodding at Italo, she continues, "He's actually pretty good at starting these, too. Just because it's part of cooking, I guess. Ha!" She shakes her head with a smile and continues to work on the wood.

Within a minute, she finally has the fire going. After making sure she's not warming herself just yet, I lean over to warm my face. It's a wonderful sensation. I haven't been quite as cold all over since Ermine gave me the hat, but there's a difference between sort of comfortable and warm.

I stay like this until I realise I'm taking up most of the fire space right now. A glance over at Ermine proves she hasn't even held her hands over the fire yet, and I pull back embarrassed. I apologise as the cold starts to creep back over my face.

"It's fine," Ermine says, moving her hands over the flames. "We all need to keep warm. And, unlike me, you haven't literally spent most of your life in a meat locker, so you're not as used to cold." She shrugs. "The arena's lucky for me and not so much for you. Don't worry about it."

"All right."

I watch the flames flicker until I start to feel another presence. I look over at Ermine, who's also tensed up, slowly removing her hands from over the fire.

I turn to look round, hoping somehow both of us are just imagining it, when a voice startles me enough I jump.

"What's going on?" It's just Italo. I glance to see him yawning and sitting up on the sleeping bag. My gaze lingers just long enough to see his eyebrows rising in alarm before I turn to see what it is myself.

Five figures stand poised on the snow above and not so far away from us. Brandishing weapons, they smile confidently.

The Careers.


	24. The Battle

Recommended Listening: Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin (one of the listenings where you're not listening for the lyrics, by the way)

* * *

**Yao Qin, District 1**

The tributes below us tense, but there's no chance of escape for them. And with five of us versus three of them—or more like four of us versus one of them—there's no chance of victory for them, either. Even if we don't all attack at once—which we won't because we have horrible coordination—it's only a matter of time before we overpower them.

Not sure which of us is going to put his or her life on the line first, I stand at the ready until Rica swings her bat to point at the group beneath us.

"Go, Yao!"

With an inhale, I hop over the snowbank and run for Ermine. Unfortunately, coming closer reminds me just how huge she is. But I have a weapon, and I have backup behind me... I'll be fine. And I can consider it revenge for her bloodbath stunt.

Ermine's in a ready position by the time I arrive, but she lets me strike first. I thrust my ladle towards her stomach, but she dodges, aiming a punch for my head. I duck and pivot, getting behind her to swing my wok at the back of her head. She turns a second after me, bringing up at arm to block my attack. I step to the side just in time to avoid her next strike, but she throws a succession of punches I have to weave round until I catch part of her right fist in the ladle. Yanking her arm down while I have the chance, I don't quite throw her off-balance, but she does dip down.

Before she can right herself, I hop, pushing down on her lowest shoulder to hoist myself up. Quickly replacing my hand with my foot, I jump into a short spin. Ermine pivots to face me, but it's not fast enough for her to see and stop my swing. I bring the wok down and around into her head, and she falls beneath the blow, leaving me to land a bit hard and spin to hit the next tribute.

Closest is Riben, not looking sure what to do. I end his mental debate with one easy swing.

The other Careers are starting to close in behind me as I turn to the last of the three. Italo, seeing all of us here and his only defenders sprawled on the ground, starts shaking.

"Please don't hurt me!" he wails, waving more frantically the white flag—did he get the cloth from his undershirt or something?—in his hands. Seeing me prepare to swing, he cries, "H-Help! Somebody help!"

The glow and rumble of a distant lightning strike fills the scene just before a blinding bolt crashes down right in front of us.

**Ermine Lutz, District 10**

My brain's still a little warped from the hit, but when the lightning hits I see Yao freeze up. Not thinking I'll get any better chance, I force myself to move, shooting an arm out to seize his ankle. Before he can react, I jerk him ahead while rising to my feet in a turn. He's built up some good momentum by the time the closest Career is in his path. Still crouching, I send his shoulder into Rica's stomach before letting go.

The others have realised I'm still conscious by now. I stand quickly—a bit dizzying, but necessary—and pick out the most immediate threat. Anglynn has an arrow halfway drawn, angling her bow to aim at me. I lunge, seizing her right wrist and the bow and prying them apart, the bowstring fraying and twanging as the arrow's ripped away. Before she can twist out of my grip, I shift my weight and pull her arms closer and a bit farther from their sockets, planting a hard kick in her abdomen. As she doubles over, I let go, ramming my elbow into the side of her head.

I've no sooner begun to bring back my arm than I fell something coming towards the back of my head. I duck and lower my arm before turning to see Ivan finishing a swing. I punch for his stomach, but he brings his elbow down to block. Before I can attempt another hit, I see Rica and Yao recovering and preparing to get back at me. Dedicated to nothing more than striking hard and striking fast, I deliver a swift kick between Ivan's legs and pivot as Rica swings for my head. I duck, but not before Yao gets to drive his wok into my side.

Ignoring the sensation of breathlessness, I seize Rica's swinging arm and twist. She resists enough I don't dislocate anything, and I have to let go to dodge Yao's next ladle jab. Starting to regain the ability to breathe, I grab the ladle's handle and throw Yao to the ground. Rica aims a strong kick to my midsection while Ivan encroaches. Sidestepping and yanking Rica's foot forwards, I deal a blow to the side of her head and duck under Ivan's pipe before punching Ivan in the chest, something snapping.

Yao charges for me, and I just have to drop to the ground to make him launch right into Ivan. The two go to the ground in a tangle, and I allow myself to ignore the others for a moment now that Ivan's head isn't at the edge of my reach. Yao's turning to get up, and I deliver a hard kick to his lumbar, sending him rolling before I turn back towards Ivan. He starts to sit up, readying his pipe, but I wrench his free arm behind him and swing a kick into the side of his head.

My other leg goes out from under me as a bat crashes into my ankle. Landing on my rear, I let go of Ivan and turn myself with my hands as Rica brings the bat up for another strike. Pushing myself back hard enough to feel the fire behind me, I watch the bat hit the snow between my feet the same time Cisca hurries this way. I lurch forwards to grab Rica's wrists before she withdraws her weapon and flip her over me. She lands with a thump and a yelp.

Cisca pauses at this, but Yao's back on his feet, going towards Italo. Standing up myself, I jab Cisca in the ribs just in case before Yao swings his wok with both hands at a frozen Italo. Before the weapon can connect I leap forwards to drive a fist into Yao's head. He falls, and I look to see who's coming next.

Anglynn seems to be unconscious, and Cisca's more or less playing dead. Yao's struggling to wobble back up, and Ivan is clutching at his head, trying to catch his breath. Rica's also exhausted, her face a little burnt, but she's still the first to stand, her weight on shaking legs as she gets a grip on her bat.

I watch her for a second before trotting to my supplies and withdrawing the ice axe. It may not be intended for this, but still makes a decent weapon. I could easily drive it through someone's skull.

Inhaling, I turn back towards Rica, trying to keep my limp to a minimum as I approach. Rica swallows but readies her bat.

I go ahead and strike first, thrusting the point towards her midsection. She slides to the side, bringing her bat round at the same time. I lean back, the metal passing just shy of me, and Rica quickly pivots and readjusts to swing the other way. I have to take a step back, but before the bat can finish its arc, I take a strong step forwards, planting a kick in her stomach. She steps back to balance herself, and I follow, tossing the ice axe to my left hand so I can hook with the right. It's a solid enough hit to her head that she finally collapses to the side, dropping her bat. Hurrying, I stomp down about where her diaphragm is and stand over her panting.

Forced to face upwards, she tries to reach her bat, but all she can do is watch as I switch the ice axe back to my dominant hand. She looks at me, at her beaten-down allies, at her empty hands, and back at me.

She breathlessly gives a nervous laugh before inhaling to shout, "Retreat!"

I look over to see if anyone's even able to follow that order at this point before Rica lurches beneath me. The shift of weight to my injured angle unbalances me just enough Rica can push her way out. As I stagger, she grabs her bat but keeps running. Yao, who had already managed to stand but wasn't looking forward to charging me again, is the first to follow. He helps Ivan to his feet while Rica scoops up Anglynn with some effort. Cisca, finally deciding it's time to get back up, pushes herself to her feet with a wince.

I watch panting as the four go stumbling away.


	25. Compelled

Author's Note: Wow, Ermine's part was a lot longer than expected. There's a reason I had to split it from the last chapter. But hey, she's labelled as the main character, anyway, right?

Also, ALMOST 200 ALREADY YRFCKJLHUNILUYVCJTRCTV

Recommended Listening: Girl Can't Help It by Journey

* * *

**Ermine Lutz, District 10**

The adrenaline is starting to ebb, and it is not a pleasant sensation. Gah... I couldn't have gotten hit in the head that many times, but...

I take a deep breath, fighting the urge to lie down in the numbing snow and sleep. That's... not a good idea.

Instead, I turn towards my teammates. Italo, still wide-eyed, is sitting in the snow, but Riben's face-down on a sleeping bag.

"Riben!" I gimp over to him, kneeling on the head of the bag. Before I try to rouse him, he slowly pushes himself up to look at me.

"Hey," I say, feeling my heart rate go back down. "You all right? What happened?"

"I'm okay," he says quickly, dipping his head. "Sorry for worrying you." He looks to the side of my head to make sure the others are gone. "Yao hit me a bit after you, and, well... You already knew I wasn't going to fight anyone, and I didn't really want to watch, so I sort of stayed down..." He looks down at his hands.

"That's all right." If I was helpless while Careers mobbed my teammates, I wouldn't really want to watch, either. "Did he knock you out, even for a little bit?"

"I don't think so."

The same guy that bashed my side in and probably fractured a lower rib didn't manage to knock out a thirteen-year-old. "He must have been going easy on you. But that's good."

Riben is fine, then. Now, Italo—

_Italo's not fine Italo's hurt Italo's dying_

Feeling panicked even though I just saw him intact, I snap my gaze in his direction. He's still sitting in the snow—i-idiot—but there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with him. He would know to avoid the fight, anyway. I'm really surprised he's even still in the area—

_he couldn't run he's hurt he's dying can't you tell he's dying_

"Italo," I bark, making him sit up stiffer. "You didn't get hurt, did you?"

Italo shakes his head, smiling, as I hurry towards him. "Nope! You got everybody before they got to me." He throws his arms round his knees and chirps, "Thank you, Ermine!"

_he's lying he's hurt and you hurt him he's hurt you're hurt too you're both dying_

"You're welcome," I say breathlessly, spinning my watch rapidly round my wrist as I carefully look him over to make sure. But he's fine. I thought I got everyone who tried to hurt him—really, it was just Yao—and I was right. He'd be bawling his eyes out if he was hurt, anyw—

_you're both dying hurt and dying and it's all your fault_

He's fine! I'm banged-up but fine, too! We avoided death for now, a—

_dying dying you're both dying you were both hurt in the fight and you can't even tell it was your fault and you're dying and he's dying_

Turning suddenly, I race for the fullest bag of supplies and dump them all out fast as I can.

_and there will be more battles and you'll die you'll all die all three of you_

A can of beans, a can of peas, and a can of fruit cocktail roll onto the ground. Next to them in a pile is jerky, orange juice, the bag of coal, the flare, a water bottle still being purified, and the length of rope.

_Italo's already hurt but he still has to die it will be your fault he'll be split open bleeding dying crying_

I sweep at the snow until I have a flat surface to work with. Picking up the cans, I set them down carefully, in a row, embedding them in the snow just right so their labels are centred and facing up.

_and it'll be your fault but you're already dying but you still have to watch him hurt before you can finally bleed and die_

The peas are a little closer to the beans than the fruit, so I shift it, moving the snow until it looks fine. I go ahead and set the orange juice can to the right, though it's taller than the other cans, so I have to carefully centre it. The flare and the water bottle are the only other cylinders, so I go to them next. The flare's a little closer to being just a cylinder, so I line it up next.

_and you die and you're all your father has left and he's dying too dying on the inside because you're dying _

I push the flare into the snow until it's exactly halfway buried, and then I turn to the water bottle. It's not the same height as the flare, so there's more centring to do before I push it down in the snow. But it's not perfectly lined up, so I have to take it out, smooth things over, and try again. I have better luck this time and turn to the coal, jerky, and rope to see what goes where next.

_and he's in pain and he'll die too because he has nothing left he'll die he'll probably hang himself with a rope like that one_

I fling the length of rope out of sight and focus on the two things remaining. The jerky's a solid bag, so I end up putting it below the cylinders, in the middle. It's almost rectangular, but the edges aren't sharp. I crease the corners a bit to help that before turning to the coal.

_everyone dead and it's all your fault_

I dump the coal out and carefully fold the bag into a rectangle, placing it opposite the jerky bag. There are twelve pieces of coal. Three for each corner of this. I put one on each inside corner and the other two on the borders, halfway between the edges of the cylinder or bag and the invisible corner. Careful as I am, it's not entirely symmetrical, so I sigh in frustration and go over them again. Then I realise it's really the coal bag out of sync with everything, adjust it, and adjust the coal accordingly. It looks fine now.

Yeah. Fine. It's all fine now.

I look over at my teammates to find them both staring at me. Riben immediately averts his gaze, while Italo just blinks, having seen me do things like this before.

I clear my throat. "...Sorry about that."

Taking a deep breath, I get the snow off the supplies and put everything back in its container and back in the bag.

"Riben, you go ahead and take first watch tonight so your sleep won't be interrupted," I start. "Wake Italo next since he's uninjured." I nod at Italo. "If you can somehow remember, still wake me up for my third of the night after that, though, all right?"

Riben nods tentatively, and Italo says, "Yes'm!"

"All right." Too tired and aching to bother explaining my insanity to Riben for now, I just squirm inside a sleeping bag and gently set my head on its built-in pillow cushion.

**Anissa Dell, District 9**

Looks like we lucked out today. No tributes, no mutts, and we didn't get hurt by any lightning strikes. We're not doing too well because of the cold, but we'll do more moving tomorrow. There has to be something useful out here to attract tributes. Especially some wood. Unless the Capitol honestly wants us all to freeze to death.

Though that would probably be better than having to kill each other, it's still not a pleasant thought. But dying's never something I like thinking about, in whatever form.

Taking a deep breath, I look over towards the sun. It's in its nighttime position, underneath the clouds that haven't quite cleared up from today's storm. It hasn't moved since I started my watch, but that's to be expected.

I glance down at Liu. He's wrapped up tightly but still shivering a bit. I'm worried for him. If the injury itself wasn't bad enough, he's been having some memory and attention issues that weren't there on the train. He won't admit it, though. Doesn't want me to worry.

Well, that's a losing battle.


	26. Damage

Recommended Listening: Jump by Van Halen

* * *

**Cisca Lemieux, District 1**

We're still moving through the snow. Twilight hit quite a while ago, and none of us are in good shape, but we're still far from camp. And even if we've had some medical supplies donated, a whole other set of sleeping bags and blankets so we can stop here is probably a bit much to ask.

I least I got out all right. No blows to the face, and I'm breathing all right, even if a rib got snapped. We got plenty of pain medication to go round, so even I, with the least damage, got a decent dose. And there's not much trouble finding ice to put over my injury.

The others aren't as well off. No one has any serious leg injuries, so we can keep moving, but not all of the medication has kicked in for everyone, and nobody's in a good mood. That includes Anglynn, who finally woke up a while into the trek.

It's tough going. Our path may be better packed-down than on the way here, but the light is dim, and we're a lot more tired. How much farther do we have to go, anyway...?

Taking a deep breath though it sends a twinge through my chest, I keep up with the rest.

**Nada Ott, District 11**

Stifling a yawn, I look round us again. Still no one, and no sign of that bear, or anything else. It's been a pretty uneventful watch. At least I get to sleep after this, instead of getting up for the day in the middle of the night. I guess it's really the same amount of sleep, but... I don't know. I suppose I'm just more of a night owl.

I shift my legs, though only enough to keep from moving off the part of the sleeping bag my body heat has warmed. I'm really glad we got these. Much better than sitting on the unprotected snow.

And it's been a whole day without anything going wrong with them. Or the rest of our haul, for that matter. I finally broke down and had some of the food, and I haven't felt queasy or particularly weird any other way. Maybe it really was safe. I don't want to jinx myself, but... I mean, the Gamemakers could have just thrown out a few piles of supplies to keep us from freezing to death too soon.

But if that's the case, there's probably no real wood, or... Well, I can't say animals. But there can't be many bears out if there's nothing for them to eat, right? I... guess there's us, but the cub sure didn't seem interested.

So I don't really know. It seems like this place is awfully empty, though. I wonder just how big it is. I don't see a clear border or chasm or anything, but that doesn't mean much. It's not like they'd let us escape.

What's the farthest away the Careers could be, then? Two days' walk? Three? Probably less, for them. But there haven't been any cannons recently. I can't imagine they haven't found anyone, with how open the arena is. But why wouldn't anyone have been killed? Maybe they're just taking a long time to do it? Bored from walking so long and decided to torture the other tribute for a while instead?

Only when that just gives me a little bit of a chill do I realise just how tired I am. Have I been on watch half the night yet? Or, am I still keeping a good watch? I think I'm awake enough to notice anyone approaching. With the featurelessness of the snow, I could manage that as long as my eyes are open. If I can keep my eyes open...

I dare to watch a little longer, wishing we could light a fire without worrying about being seen, before finally plodding over to wake Cuba. Shaking his shoulder, I wait until he yawns and stretches before I start for my sleeping bag.

I've just thrown the top layer over to climb in when I hear Cuba freeze in the middle of another yawn. Feeling a little nervous, I look out over the snow in case he saw something, but no one's out there.

"Cuba?" I start faintly, turning to look over at him and instantly regretting it. He's looking at me and getting to his feet, his face contorted in a way that could only mean one thing.

"Rica!" Even drowsy, his voice is so raging I shrink.

"N-no, it's—"

"You've got some nerve, showing up in front of me after what you did!" he says, stomping towards me.

I make an effort to curl up and cover my head, but he still starts hammering his hand onto a part my arms couldn't cover. Ow, ow, ow.

He continues to yell at me for being Rica before apparently noticing something and cutting off abruptly. Even his hand stops hitting me for a second, and I dare to look and see if he's finally recognised me again.

He hasn't. "And what did you do to Nada?" His hands curl into fists, and I nervously scoot back.

"I-I am—"

"I said, what did you do to her?" he roars, seizing the top of my collar.

"I am her!" I respond, trying to ignore my head throbbing. "J-just calm down for a second! Nada's right here—me—I promise..."

For once silent, Cuba looks me over and squints at my face. I stay still, afraid any move would be considered an attack and brand me as Rica.

Clearing his throat and averting his gaze, Cuba lets go of me. "Uh..." He scratches his forehead. "Sorry about that..."

My reflex is to say it's okay, but I stop myself. It's really not.

"Be careful, okay?" I mutter instead, rubbing the back of my head. "Gosh... I don't even look that much like her..."

At this, he squints at my face again. I understand that there's not much light out, but he had trouble distinguishing the difference back in the Training Centre, too...

"Listen," I start, fingering at my glasses, "if you really have that much trouble telling us apart, maybe you should try wearing these instead of me." I slip off the frames and offer them, but Cuba frowns and pushes my hand back towards me.

"No, no. I can't just take your glasses from you. You need them, don't you?"

"Not more than I need to not worry about getting my head pummeled in."

He looks down, wincing, and I fidget.

"I-I mean, I know it wasn't on purpose, but... I still want to make sure it wouldn't happen again..."

"...Yeah."

After a second, he goes ahead and takes my glasses, peeking through the lenses without trying to put on the frames. He immediately draws back blinking.

"I don't think these are going to help anything," he says, rubbing an eye and handing the glasses back.

"Oh, okay..." I put them back on, the cold of the metal searing into the sides of my face. "But that's all right. Just don't get quite so riled-up the next time you think I'm her, okay?"

"Definitely. Sorry, again."

I nod.

"Go ahead and get to sleep, then," he says, stretching. "I'll let you sleep in if nobody's coming."

"Sounds good. Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

I crawl into my bag shivering, throw the top over me, and close my eyes.

**Amantius Redulite, District 2**

I finally ended up going to sleep from boredom, but on waking it doesn't look like anything's gone missing. Nor have any cannons fired. It's about 6:00, so I'm guessing the others got lost. With Anglynn to help find their way, I'm not surprised. She probably got distracted by an invisible rainbow or something.

Singing to myself, I start up a fire, warming my face and some water for my morning drink. Something warm to eat wouldn't be bad, either.

Adjusting my canteen over the fire, I go through our food. Hmm. Maybe I'll just melt some cheese over bread or something...

No sooner have I set up everything for my breakfast than I hear footsteps. Quieting down, I keep my sword ready and haul myself over the edge of our bowl.

Now I finally see my teammates. They're struggling forwards, Rica limping a bit, and looking quite happy to be within a stone's throw of camp. None of them are in particularly good condition, and Cisca and Ivan seem to be the only ones without any black eyes.

"I take it you found something," I start, crossing my arms.

"Someone," Anglynn corrects wearily.

"And apparently you lost."

"Shut it," Rica says. "And stay that way, because we're finally within reach of sleeping bags, and we're going to sleep."

I shrug and head back down. I have breakfast to make, and they can do whatever they want. They wouldn't be of much use fighting today, anyway, by the looks of it. So I'll just take it easy a little longer, I guess. Either that, or go out on my own, which would inevitably end badly with the amount of kills the Capitol's had lately.

I guess I'm stuck here a while longer, then.


	27. For a Friend

Recommended Listening: Run Like H*ll by Pink Floyd (don't search with the asterisk included, please)

* * *

**Ivan Muskov, District 4**

It's still morning by the time I wake up, but I don't feel like going back to sleep. So I wriggle out of my sleeping bag, shifting the one I had to put a little bit underneath it since one bag was too short for me. The action sends pain stabbing through my chest, but at least my shoulder's only sore. My head still really hurts, but it's not quite as bad as it was before I went to sleep. It still dampens my mood, though.

Most of us got hit in the head really hard, though, right? So everybody's going to be grumpier. I hope we get better soon. I'm never going to make friends with any of them if they stay extra-grouchy...

"You okay, Ivan?"

"Huh?" Sitting up, I turn round until I see Cisca by the fire, looking my way. "Oh... Yeah?" I answer.

Glancing over her shoulder at Amantius, who's dozing, she pulls her sleeping bag my way and sits. "You sure? You seem kind of gloomy to me."

"Oh." I stretch carefully. "Well, I've been kind of worried. That everybody's going to be too upset by the battle with Ermine and everything to try and make friends."

She tilts her head. "Who would we be making friends with?"

With a little laugh, I scratch my nose. "Um, me."

"You're worried about making friends with us, then?" she asks, folding her hands in her lap. "In the Hunger Games? Why's that?"

"Well, it's just a new sort of beginning, you know? And I never really had any friends back home, so..." I lean forwards on my hands and elbows. "It's kind of my first chance to make friends."

"Really?"

I nod.

"Well—" she leans forwards—"gosh, I'll be your friend."

I stare at her. "R-really?"

"Sure!" She smiles. "Why not?"

I look at her dumbly for a second. She really wants to be my friend? She's going to be my friend?

I have a friend?

"Yay!" I cry, swooping to hug Cisca. She yelps as I stand, with her still in tow, and it takes me a second to realise her rib is still broken.

"Oh! Sorry!" I put her down, and she takes a minute to balance, putting an arm over her ribs.

"It's all ri—" she says breathlessly before she's interrupted.

"What on earth are you two doing?" Anglynn squints at us from her sleeping bag. "I thought we were under attack or something."

"Oh, we're not; don't worry," I tell her, still swinging my arms in joy. Because I have a friend, and I still hurt from yesterday, but we'll probably still go hunting later today, and _I have a friend_!

**Cuba Machado, District 11**

The last of my nut rations for today are about to enter my mouth when I hear something.

"Cuba? Do you see that?"

Quickly swallowing, I follow Nada's gaze as she starts to scoot behind me. Far enough from the horizon I don't know how we didn't already see it coming, a blot on the snow draws towards us. Or, five blots.

"I see it, all right," I say, getting to my feet.

Nada makes a worried sound, standing up behind me. "I-it must be the Careers, right? That many of them?"

"Them or mutts," I say, taking a knife out of the crate. I hand it to her and take another for myself.

She fingers her weapon unhappily. "Wouldn't it be better to run?"

"Probably." I look back over, but I still can't be sure who's in the group.

"Then let's run," she says, tucking the knife into her belt.

I nod, and, with one last look back—the others seem to be speeding up a bit—we dash away from them. I'm not sure how far we're going to have to go. I mean, at the bloodbath, Careers are always happy to leave tributes alone once they're so many minutes away. Out here...

I try to think of a time Careers have given up like this on a later occasion in the Games, but I can't think of anything at the moment. But what else are we going to do? We're not going to be able to fight back against five Careers, and there's nowhere much to hide. At least if this way they could lose interest, whether they're tributes or mutts.

Another look back confirms they're tributes. And _she's_ among them. Oh, _man_, I wish there were fewer Careers after us! I would tear her apar—!

Nada yelps, and I look back towards her in time to see her starting to fall. I grab for her shoulders while slowing to a stop, though it takes a lot of effort to stop sliding before I hit the barely visible crack in the ground. Then I take a step back to make sure Nada's out of the crevasse. She stumbles back to get on her own feet, pieces of snow falling into the cleft.

And then they fly back out.

Nada's as stunned as me before she suddenly takes another few steps back.

"I-I think we're at the edge of the arena," she says, shooting a glance back at the approaching Careers.

To make sure, I lob an unpacked handful of snow in that direction. The pieces smack against the air and with a buzz come back a little more melted.

"Oh, no," Nada moans, glancing back at the Careers a few more times. "Which way are we supposed to go? Th-these places are usually circular, right? Maybe? Oh, we're definitely going to run into it..."

Before I can attempt to answer, she shakes her head, looks at the Careers again, and takes a step away. "L-let's just keep going. I'll take the lead, since you can carry me if I get shocked."

With that, she's off, and I go after her. I try to see if there's any way to see the shield, but it only happened to coincide with the crevasse back there. We can't tell unless something runs into it, and we're keeping up too brisk a pace for me to worry about bending down to get more snow to throw.

But when I look back, the Careers are a lot closer. We're not putting as much distance between us as we could going straight. But if we just keep running, we could still lose them.

I keep thinking that until Nada cries out, tripping and tumbling to the snow. Inhaling sharply, I make sure I don't run into her and slow enough to check. A cannon hasn't fired, at least—and no sooner have I tried to rouse her than she gasps for breath and flails. I just keep her from hitting the field all over again—I think—and I hurry to help her to her feet. She takes all of one step before almost hitting the ground again.

In a panic, she shoots a few more glances over at the Careers before I even manage one.

We're not getting away now, are we?

Helping Nada up, I tell her this quietly. She looks like she's about to cry, but she swallows and nods, running her shaking hands over her belt for the knife. I get mine out and try to catch my breath.

The Careers get within pitching range, and I draw closer. I'll look less afraid, and there's less of a chance of anyone running into the force field. It wouldn't end well for our families if we end up using it as a weapon.

Despite having a bit of a limp, Rica leads with a swagger.

"If it isn't the Communist from 11 himself!" she says proudly, resting her bat on her shoulder. "This is going to be fun." She looks over my shoulder. "Whoever wants the girl can take her. In the meantime—" she steps close enough to clip me with the edge of the bat if she swings—"I believe we have some unfinished business."

"Oh, yes, we do!" I lunge with the knife, but she sidesteps, cracking the bat into my head while she has a chance.

I roll to the ground, stunned enough to stare up for a second as someone says, "Back off, sis." Rica stands over me triumphantly, but the sight of her smiling face is enough to enrage me out of the stupor. I stab her calf, twisting the blade. When she pulls the injured leg up, I roll out from underneath her and hurry to my feet.

In the moment I'm not looking at Rica, I see Nada. She has one girl on either side restraining her arms as Ivan and the other boy argue.

Then I feel the bat coming for my head again, and I duck, spinning back into the battle.

"You already messed up a kill. She's mine."

I stab at Rica's midsection, but all I get is fluff from the jacket before she swings again.

"But... Please? Can I take her? Or can we share?"

The bat comes down on my elbow, and I almost lose my grip on the knife as my arm plummets to my side. Growling, I punch with my other arm.

"How the crap do we share a kill?"

My fist connects with her midsection, making her cough, but she swings again. My head snaps to the side.

"We just both attack until she's dead. Oh, we could take turns! You cut off a limb or something, and I'll bash in a couple ribs, and we do that a few times and see who kills her first."

W-wait, what?

Trying to ignore the warmth flowing down the side of my head, I look back towards Nada, who's staring bug-eyed at the arguing boys.

One of them shrugs. "Works for me." He draws his sword.

I tackle him about the same time Nada shouts and writhes out of the girls' hold.

"Run!" I yell, the Career tilting under my weight and falling into the other boy. Nada heeds my word, only looking back once.

I struggle to push myself up as the archer girl recovers and starts to take aim. Before she has the arrow pulled back, I fling my knife at her. It slices her ear open, and she shouts, dropping her weapon to put a hand over the injury.

I'm suddenly hoisted up by a hand in my hair, and I struggle to gain my footing as Rica steps in front of me, gripping her bat again.

"Trying to play the hero, are we? How sweet. Almost redeems you."

Then she brings the bat round so fast I wouldn't realise I was hit if I weren't falling backwards. I vaguely feel liquid running into my nose, but I'm suddenly too lightheaded to do much about it. In a blank buzz, I register Rica's blissful grin and three more sharp cracks about my head before everything goes black.


	28. Flash

Recommended Listening: Life is a Lemon (And I Want My Money Back) by Meat Loaf

* * *

**Nada Ott, District 11**

I'm pretty sure my knee and shin are burnt from the force field, but it doesn't matter. I can't be running fast enough, and I don't see any shelter in this direction, but it doesn't matter. I just have to run.

Cuba's not coming behind me, and he's up against five Careers. Neither of us has the slightest chance of getting back to our supplies with them about. But I just have to run.

The Careers are going to be coming after me once they're done with Cuba. And I don't think they're going to be done with him in any way he could still be my ally. But I just have to run.

A cannon fires.

But I just have to run—!

And I'm already breathing too hard before my throat starts to close up, but that's not important. And my leg can barely take my weight, and I'm leaving a trail, anyway, but that's not important. I just have to run.

Cuba told me to run, so it's okay. And if I don't, I know the Careers are going to tear me to pieces in the worst way. So I just have to run.

And the Careers have to be coming after me now, so I have to keep hurrying. Because I'm next on their list now that C-C-Cuba... Now that he's...

But that's not impor—

That's a lie. But I just have to run!

C-Cuba... That had to have been him, right? They murdered him. He went to save me, and now he's dead. My ally's dead, just like that. Dead, dead, dead, dead—

Stop it! This isn't helping. He wanted you to run, so run! If you don't get out this, he died for nothing! He died for nothing... He shouldn't be dead...

B-but I just have to run!

**Rica States, District 4**

"Are there seriously no bandages in here?" I continue shuffling through the crate, but it's nothing but wood and a few knives.

"Apparently not," Amantius comments, leaning back against a snowbank. "You didn't think to bring any?"

"She was too focused on bringing food for the trip," Ivan says, waving his arms through the snow for some dumb reason.

"Well, I had to bring enough for you!"

Ivan just smiles and continues making his snow angel.

Tossing the crate lid in the snow, I push myself to my feet. "Forget it. I'm not bleeding that much, anyway."

"Nor am I," Anglynn says, removing a handful of snow from her ear for a second. She frowns at the red-stained blob and drops it to get another. "Relatively speaking."

Cisca rubs her hands together. "So, are we going all the way back to camp, or are we going to rest here for tonight?"

"We might as well stay," says Ivan. I shoot him a glare for pretending he's the leader again, but he just goes on, "I don't think Rica could walk all the way back to camp, anyway."

"I could easily walk back!" Okay, maybe not so easily with a ripped-open calf on one side and a sprained hip on the other, but I could still make it.

"And we should." I cross my arms. "There are only two sleeping bags here, so if we don't want to freeze our butts off tonight, we should at least get back to the bigger supply pile."

"You sure you can make it that far?" Amantius says, gathering the bags of food.

Before I can answer, Ivan says, "You _are_ awfully weak by now. But if you really want to go, I could carry you."

I wheel on him. "You watch what you're saying, Communist! Even if I'm not in the best shape, I'm still ten times stronger than you!"

Pivoting, I grab the crate lid and slam it back on the box, hoisting the thing in the air. It hardly weighs anything to me, but it's still heavy enough to make my legs protest.

"Let's go," I bark, stomping off. But it's not long before I have to ease up on my steps. It hurts my legs too much just putting weight on them, but the jarring doesn't do wonders for my headache, either. So excuse me if I'm a bit grouchier than usual.

I'm definitely going to kill Ermine for that. Her death will be slow.

Almost as slow as Ivan's.

**Italo Veneziano, District 10**

I seal the bag of jerky back up, two pieces of meat stuck in my mouth. Ermine's probably going to find out and be mad at me, but I feel like eating, so I'm going to eat this.

Nibbling happily on the jerky, I toss the crinkly bag back in the backpack—good thing Ermine sleeps so heavy. She doesn't even notice if I sneak onto her mattress at night. She's always angry at me when she wakes up, but it's better than sleeping on the floor. We never had a mattress at my house...

I have to get a drink with my food, so I sip out of a water bottle, but the water's not that nice. It's kind of bitter and way too cold. I would warm it up, but Ermine said not to start a fire at night. Hmm... I guess I won't.

I finish the jerky and look round. There's not much to see. It's usually dim at night, but now it's all cloudy so it seems more like night. It'd be easier to fall asleep like this. It was still light when I went to sleep the first time tonight.

Actually, I was asleep for a lot of today. It was really nice! Ermine didn't make us march or anything today, so I just got to doze next to the fire. Nice and warm and nice...

Ermine should let us rest more often. She mostly talked with Riben, but it was still a lot of fun. More fun than trudging through the snow.

More fun than now, too. I might have a little food, but there's still nobody up to talk to. It gets kind of boring on watch. That's why I ended up making a white flag last time.

And it came in handy, too! Yao didn't hit me after I waved it, and maybe that was also because of Ermine, but it's the flag that gave her a chance! So glad I made it.

Well, I'm bored again, so should I make another one? The first one didn't get damaged, but you never know. But I'm kinda cold where I ripped out some undershirt to make the first one... Maybe I'll ask Ermine if she'll let me use some of hers.

And it's probably about time to switch watches, anyway, right?

Humming, I go over to joggle Ermine awake.

**Romania Viorel, District 6**

Thunder booms in the distance as I pace round a few trees to keep the blood flowing. Night watch isn't all that fun. Already messed with Turk one good time, so I can't really try anything similar while he's asleep. And no marker to draw on him or anything.

So I'm just keeping watch normal-like. Staying as awake as I can and looking out for anyone coming. No one has yet. Probably no one will tonight. There was a face in the sky—the funny, loud guy, sadly—so we shouldn't be too worried. Although it took a while to get to that cannon, so the Capitol might still be kinda restless... I don't know. Depends on how good the kill was, I guess.

I wear down the snow in my path one more cycle before I actually see something.

Standing still, I shiver and squint back in that direction. I can't make out a thing until the next lightning strike. Aha! I think that was a person. Or something.

In another second, both the tribute and the lightning are closer. Someone's being chased towards us. Oh, boy.

Actually, yeah—oh, boy. Something actually happening. Turk and I can handle a single tribute all right, so this should be fine. Let's see what happens.

I pad over to wake Turk as the line of lightning comes closer to our forest.


	29. Light Up

A/N: This chapter made me very happy for bizarre reasons.

Also, coffee is relatively expensive. And not just the fancy kind.

Recommended Listening: Illegal Alien by Genesis

* * *

**Egypt Hassan, District 12**

Apparently I'm going to that forest. I'd hope no one's there, but considering the Gamemakers are chasing me over... Can't be too optimistic. Let's just wish for someone who doesn't want to fight.

I run through the snow—it's still tiring, but it's better than trying to dodge the strikes—as the trees loom closer. They glisten a bit in the dimness, but between them and the snow it's blinding when lightning flashes. But I'll keep going. Not much I can do to outsmart the Gamemakers when they could probably zap me any second. Maybe they'll even give me a break if I play along.

I could certainly use any supplies. I got a little bit of food and a thermos of hot tea. Both very nice, but never enough. I'll have to play to the sponsors soon to keep from dying, and now appears to be the time for action.

By the time I've reached the first boughs, the lightning doesn't seem to be chasing me down anymore. But that doesn't mean I'm safe. I'd better find whatever or whoever is here. If they're letting me search further of my own accord, I'll take it gladly.

Struggling to slow the biting air rushing into my lungs, I quietly step into the grove. I can't see much of anything. But there's not much on the ground, nothing more than the sweeping dunes everywhere. It wouldn't be too hard to detect something out of the usual, I think.

That, and I hear someone talking.

It's quiet, but someone's definitely talking. So I'm probably up against more than one tribute. But clouds still hang overhead, so I have nowhere to run. Maybe I could still burrow and hide…

I've just begun to dig out some snow when something collides with my chest.

Staggering back, I try to figure out what just happened, but it's too dark. Only when lightning flashes behind me do I see Turk squinting at me and coming forwards. Then he disappears in the dark.

Realising he probably found me because I'm breathing so loud, I quiet and get in some sort of defensive pose. What must be a punch flies by my ear, so I jab where Turk must be. My fist is cushioned by jacket fluff, but it does connect. Turk coughs, and then lightning hits nearby.

For the moment I can see his head, I punch for it, but Turk blocks. As the darkness covers him again, a fist connects with the side of my head, followed by a knee to my ribs. I topple to the ground.

Urg… I'm too weak to put up a decent fight. Between the hunger and cold… I still can't give up, though. This is my first chance to take a stand, and I'm not going to fail. One way or the other, that spells death, and I cannot do that to my family.

Light flashes as I'm pushing myself up, but Turk doesn't strike. With limbs shaking from cold and strain, it takes me a minute to actually stand. I punch blindly, managing to hit him somewhere, but he grabs my wrist, tugs my arm to the side, and jabs me in the chin. I wrench my arm out of his grip—lucky we're both shaking—but he still lands a hard kick to my torso.

I fall backwards, a brittle set of branches crashing into the back of my head. I pat at the ground until I find solid enough ground, and I start to push myself up. Another lightning flash, and Turk's foot flies into my abdomen, pinning me down. Breathless, I squirm, but he stands firm.

"Well, that was easy." He yawns. "You're not that strong, are you?"

I find myself glaring even though neither of us can see the other at the moment.

"Interesting way to start my day, though. So thanks, I guess. But I win."

Distant thunder roars, and he falls silent.

Then I hear metal scraping metal.

Suddenly feeling like I'm choking on my heart, I stay frozen as a lightning flash illuminates his scimitar in a blaze.

No. I have to buck him. I just have to buck him and run...

Why do I have to be so cold? Why do I have to be so tired? He's probably stronger than me normally. I know I can't throw him. Why...

I try to draw in breath to at least say goodbye to my family, but then the blade comes down.

**Turk Adnan, District 7**

"So... what exactly were you thinking?" Romania starts.

I take a second to sip my tea—which just seems like dirty water and does _not_ have enough caffeine but is apparently all the sponsors could afford—and inhale. "Not much more than you probably heard me say. We fought, and I won."

"Well, that's obvious." She sips her own portion. "What I meant was, deciding he's your property."

I lean back. "Same as you heard. But if he starts fighting better, I might promote him to ally."

Romania gives me a weird look but shrugs. After a pause, she continues, "But was the branding really necessary?"

I look over at Egypt, who's sitting silently, a handful of snow on his cheek where I scored a "T."

"Eh, I was living in the moment." I wave a hand at him. "Maybe it'll heal by the time you're worthy to be called my ally. It's not like it's killing you or anything, right?"

He just meets my gaze for a moment before turning back to his cup of tea.

Romania drums her fingers on the edge of her cup. "You know, normal people build their team by talking to people."

"Well... That's less fun."

"For you."

"What else would I mean?" I respond with a grin.

She rolls her eyes and looks over at Egypt. "You know, you're welcome to join the conversation at any point."

Egypt just shrugs.

I give him a look. "Do you _ever_ talk?"

He meets my gaze. "Do you ever not?"

I draw back blinking while Romania booms, "He speaks!"

Egypt just raises an eyebrow and goes back to drinking.

**Zavann Liu, District 9**

The sun is up, isn't it? More up than at night, I mean. Yeah, I think morning's hit. I guess I should go ahead and wake Dell.

Turning towards where she's wrapped up in the blanket, I call her name a few times. It takes a while before she stirs, but eventually she opens her eyes and starts to shuffle out of the covers.

"You ready to go?" she starts eventually.

I turn my head fast enough to get a little dizzy. "Go where?"

"Just..." She wrings her hands. "Elsewhere. Where there might be some supplies."

"Oh, oh, right." I nod, picking up the blanket so we can put it over my shoulders. Dell gathers the few supplies we do have—a couple of sandwiches, a canteen, and a jacket we can't really put on over what we already have—and we start walking.

It's tough. I feel like it just keeps getting colder, and I just keep getting more tired. But that'll only get worse if we don't find anything. And if Dell feels the same way, I definitely can't keep her from finding something to help.

"So... Anything left to talk about?" Dell starts.

I think for a minute. "I don't know."

We trudge forwards in silence for a moment.

"Do you think Florry was right?" Dell eventually starts, smiling sadly. "About God being a chemist?"

Remembering his interview, I laugh. "No, no. God's a physicist."

Her look brightens a bit in amusement. "Is he, now?"

"Uh-huh." I just keep myself from tripping over a clod of ice. "Isn't it obvious? You can't make everything work with just chemistry. It definitely takes a physicist."

"Really?" She slows a bit so the blanket doesn't pull so tight between us. "Now, supposing he's really a biologist..."

"What?" I exclaim. "Oh, no! What about all of the not alive things?"

"Not alive things?" She laughs. "Well, as long as the 'alive things' interact with them, it could still sort of count as biology, right?"

"Oh, I don't know about that. We'd better stick with him being a physicist."

"All right, all right. I can handle that."


	30. With Friends Like These

Recommended Listening: Follow You Follow Me by Genesis

* * *

**Anglynn Redulite, District 2**

Morning's hit, so we've all grabbed a load of supplies and started back for the Cornucopia.

I'm not carrying much myself. I can't. My shoulders still ache, and my left shoulder is painful enough to keep me from wanting to use the longbow. Not that I really get the chance to, with my brother trying to hog all the kills. I start to get the feeling I'll have to go off on my own if I want to shoot anyone else.

But none of us really have the Gamemakers' favour right now, so splitting up wouldn't be that great in the way of supplies. Though, if I did better alone...

Oh, we'll see.

I continue walking with the group. It's not entertaining. Amantius and Cisca are talking quietly behind me, while Ivan offers every so often to carry Rica. But she refuses every time, struggling forwards and failing to keep the lead of the group at her pace. I walk just behind her.

That leg wound of hers doesn't look good. We cleaned it up a bit, but we still have to wait until we're back before we can get bandages. Hopefully it doesn't get infected in the meantime.

Or hopefully it does. I'm about fed up with the whole group, but the worst part is Ivan and her. If one or the other goes, I can't help but think we may all get along better.

Sighing quietly as we continue on in silence, I shift my load in my arms.

"Anglynn!"

It takes me a second to place the voice, but when I see him flying towards me, it doesn't take much to make the connection.

"Flying Mint Bunny!" I exclaim as he closes the distance and circles round me.

"Good morning," he says before landing lightly on my cargo and shaking his wings out. "Are you doing okay?"

"Better now, I respond, walking carefully since I'm only looking at him now. "It's so good to see you! How have you been?"

"Just fine. Sorry it took me so long to get here! There's a bunch going on right now, but you know I had to come see you."

"Well, thanks." I shift the load in my arms, and Flying Mint Bunny scurries to a stabler part of the load. "Always good to see a friend, and you know the others had to leave, too. Say, is Unicorn ever going to make it? You know we could really use him right about now."

He laughs, flying round me again and settling on my shoulder. "Sorry. He's really busy. I kind of am, too, but I had to come because you're my special friend!" He hops over to nuzzle my cheek.

"Aw." I smile, rubbing my cheek back against him. "You're my special friend, too."

**Riben Wang, District 6**

Ermine's still stiff as she inventories and packs our supplies in preparation. She's not completely healed up, but she had her rest, and it's time we got going again.

At least, that's what she said. It looks far too much of a challenge for her to keep moving for my likes, but I suppose she knows her own strength. And the Careers still know exactly where we are, so it should be wise to move. If she thinks now's the time, I have no reason to contradict her.

"Riben?"

"Ah?" I look up from my portion of peas as Ermine casually zips one of the bags closed.

"I never accidentally gave you more than one piece of jerky at a time, did I?"

"No, not that I've noticed."

"And you haven't had any without permission, right?"

I blink. "No, of course not."

Ermine nods, throwing the bag over her shoulder. "I didn't think so. Just wanted to make sure."

Before I can think to ask why, she looks over her shoulder at Italo and calls his name.

Attempting to make the string of throwing stars work like a Newton's cradle, Italo looks up innocently. "Yes'm?"

"We seem to be missing two pieces of jerky." She interlaces her fingers, still watching him. "Might you know what happened to them?"

"Uh?" Italo sits up straight, lowering the weapons. "N-no?"

Ermine leans closer to him. "Did you eat them?"

"N-n-no?"

She just continues staring as he quivers. After another second of this, Italo makes a whimpering noise and tries to scoot back.

In a low growl, Ermine asks, "Are you sure?"

"N-n-n-no?" After another second of shaking, he bursts into tears. "I'm sorry! I did eat them, but I was just hungry! And nobody likes being hungry, a-a-and I'm sorry!"

"I'll _make_ you sorry!"

And I just watch with open mouth as Ermine seizes the coat at Italo's collarbone and thrashes him back and forth. Tears pouring down, Italo begs for mercy as his head whips forwards and backwards and forwards again. Ermine, completely ignoring his cries, yells at him for being a rule-breaking glutton and so on.

The jerking and screaming continues for what must be a minute or two before Ermine finally stills her arm and stares down Italo.

"Do. Not," she growls, jabbing a finger into his forehead for each word. "Eat. What. I. Do. Not. Give. You. Understand?"

Italo just blubbers for a minute before he can manage a "Yes'm."

"Good." Ermine lets go of his jacket. "Now quit crying. It's not going to get you any warmer." She mops up his face with her coat sleeve and goes to collect what else is left of camp. Once she's done that, she casts a glance back at me, and I realise I'm still staring. I quickly avert my gaze and tug my hat down a bit.

"Sorry about that."

When I look up, I realise that was directed at me. Ermine, now standing next to me, adjusts the crate in her arms.

"He doesn't tend to remember any rules if I don't beat them into him," she says, glancing over at Italo, who's still sniffling and whimpering as he clings to the bag of supplies he's gathered. "But anyway." She nudges the blanket on which I'm sitting. "Pick that up, and we'll get going."

Still a bit in shock, I nod and pick it up. Ermine informs Italo it's time to go, and we head off.

**Yao Qin, District 1**

I'm seriously considering trying to just sleep when the others finally get back.

"Here at last," I sigh, trudging away from the Cornucopia to meet the others sooner.

Even though a cannon fired, they don't look very happy. Of course, Rica's walking so badly she needs help to get down the slope into camp. And they went after a pair of footprints, didn't they? At least they're not going to blame me for losing anyone this time.

I mean, really, scorning me for not being able to kill a thirteen-year-old, aru? Earlier, killing one was apparently a point of shame! It's perfectly obvious I could have killed him if I wanted to. I just sort of... didn't. Want to.

That Riben kid... He reminds me of Ju, a little bit. Certainly not much considering Riben's so much younger, and unwilling to fight, compared to that brother of mine. Who I sort of liked better little... And I wish weren't so combative...

Another stab of pain through my back snaps me out of my thoughts, and I remember why I was so happy about the others returning.

"You all have the pain meds, right?"

All but collapsing every step, Rica frowns at me. "Didn't we leave you some?"

"Enough to get me through most of the night." I cross my arms. "But it's worn off, and my back is killing me."

"Well, congrats, old man," Rica says, finally reaching her sleeping bag and sagging onto it. "Quit acting like the rest of us don't hurt."

"The rest of you have had pain meds all morning, aru!" I snap as Anglynn gets some bandages and walks towards the two of us. "So, please..."

I hold out my hand, but Rica just gives it a look and rolls up her pant leg. "Well, don't look at me. I don't have it."

About ready to skewer somebody, I start, "Then—"

"I think Anglynn had them last," Cisca, by the fire, puts in.

I turn to Anglynn. "Well, aru?"

Unrolling a stretch of bandage, she doesn't even look my way. "Yes, I'm busy, all right? One minute. While you're waiting, how about making some lunch? I don't feel up to it today."

"E-excuse me!" I baulk. "I'm not your servant, aru! Just give it!"

"You're going to have to wait," she maintains, examining Rica's leg wound. "Now go make lunch."

"No!"

Knowing where our outfits' pockets are, I put a hand in the nearest of Anglynn's and feel for the bottle. She screeches and whips round, and her elbow crashes into my face before my hand leaves the pocket. I tilt back from the momentum, another jolt going through my back as blood starts to trickle out of my nose.

"Oh!" Putting my hand to my face, I ascertain she just broke my nose.

Looking back at me with a frown, Anglynn lowers her elbow and rolls her shoulder. "Oh, now look what you made me do."

"_Made_ you, aru?" I respond, getting up.

She sighs and turns back to fixing Rica's wound. "I'm a Career—you should know I have decent reflexes. And none of this would have happened if you had just waited. Now go make lunch before I break something else."

With a sound of indignation, I put some snow to my nose and try to figure out what I'm going to do next.

"I'll help make lunch," Ivan volunteers suddenly, waving his arm to get my attention.

"...Fine," I mutter after a minute, shooting a glance back at Anglynn. She matches the look for a moment before continuing in her medical work.

I might accidentally spill blood in her food.


	31. Reality

A/N: This could well be my last update before NaNo hits. I do apologise to you for the impending hiatus, but know I'll be right back on things once NaNo is over (whether I give up in the middle or finish).

Recommended Listening: The Chain by Fleetwood Mac

* * *

**Nada Ott, District 11**

The sleeping bag drags in the snow behind me. I guess it's leaving a trail. I don't know. I don't feel like picking it up.

At least the Careers left some things behind. A little bit of food, and both sleeping bags. Didn't need them, I guess. And at least I wasn't important enough to them for them to stay behind and wait for me. So I have a few things. No wood, no canteens, and enough food for maybe two days, but at least it's not nothing.

So I'll keep going. I don't feel like it, the walking just makes my leg feel worse, and I really don't want to do anything, but I might as well. I'm only depressed because of Cuba dying, and he did that wanting me to live, so... If I can't do anything to pay him back, I can at least respect his wishes.

Oh, why does he have to be dead...?

Breathing shakily, I continue making progress for another minute before setting down the sleeping bag and curling up in it.

Can I just stay like this and disappear? I don't want to deal with any of this. Him being dead, or me being freezing and hungry and soon enough dead, too. Maybe if I stay still, the Gamemakers will just forget I'm here. And I'll just leave after the Games are over and go home and talk to my friends and family about this. Because my only friend in this place was killed, brutally I'm sure, even as nice as he was, I have no way to defend myself except one little knife, I know exactly how the Careers are going to rip me apart, and it's just too much to take all alone.

All alone...

I curl up in the bag and cry for a little bit.

...Okay, that's enough, now. Nothing good is going to come if you just sit here and cry. There are things to watch out for and things to do, so just get up and get going again. Come on.

With a sigh, I rub my face dry and emerge from the sleeping bag.

Almost immediately, something prods me in the shoulder.

Yelping, I scuttle back before even looking to see what that was. The Careers are going to get me, the Careers are going to chop off my limbs and crush me—

But it's not the Careers. It's not even a tribute.

The little white bear leans in, sniffing at my arm. It's probably going to try and eat me, with how little food is out here. I should probably run.

For some reason, I keep watching as the cub moves on to sniff my abdomen, sneezes, and looks up at me for a minute. I watch him back blankly until he steps onto the sleeping bag and sits just shy of my legs. I still just watch. Probably couldn't pull the bag out from under him, anyway...

Normally I think my good senses would be screaming for me to get out of here already, to come back when he's left. But I'm really not in a normal mood. I don't care much right now. Honestly, here I am crying about being alone among other things, and somebody shows up. And, don't you know, he's not even trying to kill me. You know what?

I lean over and pet behind an ear. The white bear swings his head to look at me, but he finishes with that and lies down. I carefully stroke his back. This he doesn't seem to mind at all. And even if I can't feel the fur, it's pretty soothing on my part...

Taking a deep breath, I pull my fingers through his fur and keep a dull lookout.

**Anissa Dell, District 9**

A bit after lunchtime, another lightning storm starts up. It doesn't seem too close. We don't need to change our plans.

We're just now getting up from another rest. Making progress through the snow without food is just exhausting. We're spending more time sitting than walking.

But we are actually headed somewhere now. A few crates are in the distance. It's surely a trap, but we're probably going to freeze to death soon without it, anyway. I don't know how long we could survive at our current rate. It usually doesn't take too long for weak kids or older people to succumb in District 9, but District 9 doesn't have Capitol-quality cold gear, so I really don't know.

Either way, I can't take a chance. Liu's already disoriented memory-wise, and I'm getting a little confused from time to time myself. We need food, or a fire, or hot chocolate, or _something_.

And those crates have to have something useful. If we survive whatever trap it has, we'll be rewarded.

But we have to get there first. And I swear that pile hasn't gotten any closer since I first noticed it. Surely it's not moving... Is it even really there? I'd consider myself fairly desperate, so just imagining it wouldn't be beyond me, I think. Hallucinating, that is. It doesn't take all that much for one to start hallucinating, right? But—no, no. Liu sees it, too.

Well... It's also perfectly possible I'm hallucinating Liu... And of course two imagined things could agree with each other... Neither has to make much sense, and with the Careers and Gamemakers out to kill us, neither really does…

But—wait. That's not right. No, Liu's here; his face wasn't in the sky. Or, I didn't see his face in the sky… I have no other way to know. No one else is about to ask. Or no one that I see…

Starting to feel a bit hysterical, I slow to a stop and take deep breaths. Keep it together. Even if the most sensible thought is that you've gone mad…

"Dell?"

I look up to see what for all purposes certainly seems like Liu stopping and watching me over his shoulder.

"Do you want to rest?" he continues.

"Ah..." I take a few more deep breaths. That's Liu. He's alive. He's talking to you, so you should answer. "No, I'm all right. Let's keep walking, if you're still up to it."

"Okay," he says cheerfully but tiredly.

And so we get going again. We. Liu's really there. He really survived. I already figured that out. Liu's alive, I'm not crazy, and those boxes are really there. So let's just keep walking... We could really use them...

We go onwards for a bit before sitting to rest and chat. I introduce my District 6 strivings before I ask him about his aspirations and hobbies. Surely I wouldn't have made him a whole story myself. If he gives me anything I wouldn't have thought of, well, I didn't think of it.

Well, I definitely didn't peg him as a mountain-climber, but he says that's a big hobby of his. So yeah. It's really him talking. Phew...

We chat a bit more—he also loves taking pictures whenever he can get his hands on film, and I tell him about my little nature experiments—and then we set off again.

Maybe that supply pile is getting a little closer. It's kind of hard to tell with all the clouds and blinding flashes of light, but maybe I'm starting to see a bit more detail?

Thunder echoes in my ears before a sudden clapping sound shreds through the air. My ears buzz, but I can't look for the source because a sudden downdraught of snow catches me. Putting my arms over my face, I try to roll as I fall so I don't get hurt. But the blast of snow subsides just as quickly as it came, and I pull myself out of the white stuff spluttering.

A bit alarmed at the lack of sound I'm getting from my cough, I push myself up and call for Liu. It's rather useless since I can't hear.

But Liu is lying on the ground not far away. His eyes are closed, and—

He didn't just get hit, did he?

Panicking, I hurry over as more lightning flashes about us.

But he can't be dead. I didn't hear a cannon, and... I can't hear anything right now, but if he got hit, he'd be fried quickly, right? So it would have been at the same time... So I wouldn't have heard it over the thunder, anyway...

But it looks like he's still breathing, right? O-or I am just... imagining it...?

Breathing heavily, I kneel by him but can't decide whether I should try taking his pulse at his wrist or his neck or if I even really want to know.

And before I reach a few fingers to his neck, a flash strikes me blind from all round. I barely feel heat cooking me before my electrical systems are overloaded and my heart stops.


	32. When in Doubt

A/N: I have emerged from NaNoWriMo victorious! The 50,109-word novel is total rubbish, but for the first time in my life I have actually written and finished an original fiction.

So now that that month is over, let's get back on track here. Thanks for waiting.

Recommended Listening: Lovin' You is Easy by Journey

* * *

**Ermine Lutz, District 10**

"Keep an eye out, everyone," I say as I carefully investigate the supplies we came upon. "Any sort of trap could still be triggered."

We came upon some crates like this earlier, but they had already been well-ransacked. Now that we've found a second set—this one untouched—I'm beginning to think they must be wood and food. Unless the arena is going to undergo a massive change soon, there really are no other supplies; this is what the Capitol put out to keep us from dying uninterestingly.

Of course, that still doesn't make it safe. No food or heat source—or, well, anything—is really safe in the Hunger Games. Thus we proceed with caution.

Determining the crate in my hands has only wood, I step carefully to the next one—no bigger than my head—and go through it. Several opaque vials marked "poison." Obviously intended to be used on tributes that haven't read the label.

The three of us determine we have two crates of wood, two crates of food in nets, one crate of the poison, and one crate of food in trail mix-type plastic sacks. It's such a load it would be terribly inconvenient to haul it all elsewhere. So the Capitol probably intends for us to stay, which I doubt is a good idea. It's entirely possible this place is still trapped, and the longer we stay, the more we risk.

"All right," I start, surveying the boxes along with what supplies we already accrued. We'll definitely want to keep everything we already have, though we could probably fit the remaining wood in the two new crates. I consider keeping the poison, but I doubt we would have much use for it. More likely than anything, Italo'll end up spilling it and burning himself or something.

"Riben," I say, nodding at the Six, "I want you to carry as many of our previous supplies as possible. But first, bury that little crate in the snow so the others won't easily find it."

Naturally, Riben nods and gets to work, and I turn to Italo to give him his assignment. Then I pause.

"Italo," I start, "are you trying to hide something?"

Italo folds his hands over his stomach. "Nuh-uh."

"Really? Because I don't remember your stomach sticking out that far." I jab a finger into his belly. "Or crinkling."

Italo juts out his lower lip, clutching the bag under his jacket to himself protectively. I just sigh. Beating him just isn't worth it right now. We have plenty of food, especially now—knock on wood—so losing one bag to his appetite isn't going to kill us. That, and my headache's starting to crop up pretty badly again...

"Just carry that crate of wood and that backpack," I say, pointing at the two heaviest things possible to carry at once without easily breaking. "And if you drop either of them, I'll hit you."

Italo makes a whining sound, but I ignore him and start gathering what I'll be able to carry on the first go. We'll definitely have to take two trips if we want to get back and forth fast enough to not worry about others approaching. So I'll take this crate, and this...

Eventually, we get loaded up as much as I want for the first trip, and we get to walking. I'm not sure just how far away could be considered safe—safer—but probably just a bit—

I slow down, squinting at the blot on the snow ahead. It's still fairly far away, but it's human-shaped, and at any rate I don't want it to steal our things. We already have everything we absolutely need, so I tell the others to hang back as I carefully move forward to investigate.

I can tell it's a tribute by its clothing, but I'm not entirely sure who. A half-buried blanket lies in the snow next to him or her, but the cloth doesn't cover the person. I have to get what would otherwise be dangerously close before I can see him breathing.

It's Zavann. His ally is nowhere in sight—probably the cannon from earlier, for a girl like her to leave him like this—and he's obviously close to freezing to death. He's certainly no threat to us.

I pause next to him for a moment, considering what the viewers are seeing. Do I have any excuse not to kill him? Maybe it would seem unfair or something, but the Capitol's never shown any particular distaste at the strong killing the weak. It wouldn't seem like I'm just trying to inflate my kill count, since they know I'm quite physically capable of racking those up.

Really, I don't feel like I have much of a choice. It's not a nice thing to do, but he's certainly going to die in the cold like this—I can't trust him enough to let him in my alliance, and I doubt anyone else would find him soon enough—and he's probably far enough gone he can't feel anything, anyway.

I cast a glance back to make sure Riben isn't watching and then snap Zavann's neck. The cannon fires, and I back away, hurrying towards my alliance.

"What happened?" Italo starts. "Who was that?"

"Zavann. Cold got him," I grunt, not wanting to explain. Honestly, I'd rather not think about it at all.

Thankfully there's still work to do.

**Cisca Lemieux, District 1**

I ended up taking first watch. I'm not sure if it's quite time to switch out yet, but I want to go to sleep already. Even if I wasn't doing all that much fighting, just trudging through the snow is exhausting enough.

Rubbing my face to warm it, I look around at the sleeping tributes for a minute before going over and waking Yao. Mostly verbally, since he's still in pretty bad shape. Thankfully I can still get him awake without disturbing the others.

Stifling a yawn poorly, my district partner rouses himself and frowns at me.

"Watch?" he asks, sliding a bit out of his sleeping bag as he pushes himself to a sitting position.

I nod, taking a step back towards my sleeping bag but pausing.

"Still not feeling well?" I ask quietly.

Yao gives me a look—apparently his troubles are supposed to be more obvious than I thought—and then shakes his head. "Not at all. The broken nose doesn't help much, either."

I cringe and then look over my shoulder where Anglynn is sleeping. "Not very nice of her, was it? That and hogging your medicine for no reason in the first place." With a sigh, I turn back to him. "But there's really not much to do about those kinds of people."

"Other than kill them, aru?" he grunts as he rolls his shoulders back.

I laugh, a bit nervously. "I guess that is an actual solution out here. Just kill anyone who irritates you." I sigh, cradling my head in my hands. "If that's the case, I wouldn't mind getting rid of one of our Fours just to stop their bickering."

I catch Yao giving a sideways look to the sleeping Rica at that.

"But-but don't take that seriously," I say, waving my hand at him. "It's just my sleepy mind talking."

"Still, not a bad idea," he mutters before closing his eyes and having to rub them open.

After a second, I start, "Look, you've taken a lot more damage than you deserve today. Go ahead and go back to sleep. It won't kill me to stay up."

Yao watches me for a second. "Really?"

I nod.

With a long exhale, he settles back into his sleeping bag. "Thanks. At least someone here isn't our of their mind."

"Thank you," I respond, smiling and ducking away.

He takes a while to fall asleep, but it happens eventually. And now that he can't notice, I'm going to go wake someone else up. I really can't stay awake much longer.

I go over to Rica and shake her awake. Mumbling incoherently in protest, she swats the air a few times before shuffling out of her bag and squinting at me. It's a minute before she thinks to put her glasses on.

"Guess it's my turn, then," she says, stretching her arms backwards and closing her eyes in a yawn.

I nod. "Sorry, but someone's got to do it."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't you have an Amantius to make out with?"

Crossing my arms, I shake my head. "He needs his beauty sleep tonight."

Rica snorts, throwing off the top layer of her sleeping bag. "And no Ivan to play hopscotch with?"

"What?" I tilt my head to the side.

She rolls her eyes. "What, you haven't heard him freaking out about you being his friend?"

I inhale. "Well, yes, but... In case you haven't noticed, Ivan's a little..." I trail off, tracing circles in the air by the side of my head.

She bursts out laughing, and I can't help but cringe. She could wake up anyone with that cackle.

"You know, that's what I really figured," she says, only beginning to lower her volume again. "He's too much of a Communist to make any real friends."

I nod, suppressing a sigh of relief as I head back to my sleeping bag.

Now I'm not taking sides between them again. As long as she doesn't go yelling about this to Ivan, I should be good. Of course, there's no guarantee as far as that goes. I'll have to figure out another fail-safe just in case...


	33. Too Cold

Recommended Listening: Pressure by Billy Joel

* * *

**Holland Mogens, District 7**

Shuffling out of my sleeping bag for the day, I pick the spent handwarmers out of my boots and place them carefully at the bottom of the handwarmer bag. Having done that, I sit and look round.

Haven't been doing much else recently. Though out here that's really not a bad thing. If it weren't for the bitter cold and my dwindled food supplies, I would say I couldn't complain.

My breath fogs into the air as I pace round my bag, curling and uncurling my cold fingers. I make some effort to wiggle my toes, too, but, thanks to the handwarmers, they don't feel like wood this morning.

Once I have my blood flowing enough for my standards, I take another look at my surroundings and then crawl back into my insulated bag. At this point I'm almost not expecting anyone to come. There were multiple kills yesterday, so I don't think the Capitol will be pulling anything much right now. Though I could always be wrong.

Absolutely nothing happens until about about noon. Then, taking another few laps round my camp, I notice a cluster coming towards me. You'd think that since I'm on a hill, it would be a decent vantage point, but I can already recognise the figures by the time I see them. It's the Careers—Anglynn, Ivan, Cisca, Yao, and Amantius. I assume Rica's back securing the Cornucopia.

I don't really care, though. All I care about is the group in front of me. They all look armed and ready, as opposed to me and... a pointy branch or two.

I really wish I was a decent runner.

**Ivan Muskov, District 4**

I really like this hunt so far. Rica's not here pretending to lead us, and while I can't annoy her, I still get to go out looking for people to kill. And then I actually find one! An alliance would be funner, but I'll take anybody I can get.

Even though I'm still tired, I push myself to go faster. It's not too hard since I'm so excited, and I guess the others are pretty happy since they're hurrying, too.

I look over my shoulder to make sure Anglynn's not going to be mean and pick off the tribute before the rest of us even get there. Her bow is in her hand, but she sees me looking at her.

"Don't worry," she grumbles, keeping up just in front of Cisca. "I won't 'steal' your kill."

Just as I open my mouth to thank her, her brother snorts.

"Who said it's his kill?"

"Me!" I chirp, turning back towards the tribute. We're so close she's starting to disappear under the curve of the hill. So very close!

The ground at last starts to come up a little under my feet, and I hurry more. The tribute, who had been standing nervously with an icy tree branch in her hands, is starting to run. But it's not away from us, just sideways. At first I can't figure out why she's doing this, and then she comes to a big sideways tree. I actually still don't know what she's doing, but I at least kind of know why she went that way. Sort of.

I get nearer, craning my neck a bit so I can see what she's doing as the hill starts to cover her up. She's stomping and pulling at the root-things—can you really call them roots if they're just made of ice?—but I still don't know why. Then, once I guess she's broken enough even though all of the top ones are still pointy, she postures herself behind the trunk. With a grunt worthy of a tennis player, she hurries ahead, swinging the tree away and then hurrying back a few steps.

I look after her for a second, getting ready to change my course, before I hear a weird hissing sound that only a moment later is recognisable as water rushing. When I look straight up, it's obvious where that's coming from.

A huge, frothy wave is gliding over the crest of the hill right above all of us, and it's coming fast.

Well, I guess I know why she went after that tree now.

I take a few steps back, but the water that has to be really, really cold is sweeping over the hill a lot faster than that.

"Um—" I turn to see the rest of the Careers a bit torn between trying to pursue the tribute somehow or running away again—"we should... probably run now," I say with a nervous laugh before taking off.

Judging from the stomping sounds behind me, the others are happy to follow orders from me. See, I'm just as good a leader as Rica! Better, actually, but right now's not particularly the best example.

The wave roars on behind us as parts of it crash to the ground, sending shallow waters at our feet. It makes the ground slushy, but we keep running, anyway, since we don't have too much of a choice. At least nobody's yelping, so I guess nobody's tripped.

I cast a glance back to see how much more water we have to deal with. The wall of water's still about as tall as me back there. I don't think the ground's getting any higher under our feet, so it shouldn't get any taller, but we still can't let it catch up for a while. Even if we just get swept off our feet, we'll get soaked in what water hits the ground. Brr! It's cold enough being dry out here, thanks!

So we keep running, the frosty air hurting our lungs—well, mine, at least—as the water comes along behind us. After a minute the crashing has quieted down enough I take another look back. Not much left now. Just a little farther, then!

After a little bit more running, the wave is finally short enough there's no way it could sweep us away. We slow down, the water turning to slush under our feet but not threatening to knock us over. Panting, we get a little farther away and look back, resting as we stand. There's no more water, but the tribute girl is completely out of sight. I would think what she did was kind of neat, but I'm pretty sure she's gotten away by now. No kill this time, either! The Capitol must hate us.

Feeling a bit like crying, I wait until my breathing slows and then ask the others to come see if the tribute actually left, just in case. We've gotten a few steps around the slush before Amantius stops.

He looks at us for a second and says, "Where's Anglynn?"

I blink, looking round. I can't see her. I tell the others this, and they agree.

Amantius scrunches his mouth to the side. "Well, then."

I shrug, picking up the pace. "I haven't heard a cannon, though, so maybe she just ran in a different direction." I don't know why she would have done that, but it's possible, I guess.

"Works for me," the Two says, marching along behind me.

**Romania Viorel, District 6**

Turk and I circle each other closely as Egypt, sort of on watch, just keeps rubbing his hands together and trying to warm his face. It's a little easier to stay warm when you're right next to somebody, but if all three of us do this, we'd probably overlook anything incoming. And it would look even weirder.

Can't be fun for Egypt, though. But oh, well. It's not like we won't take turns.

After another minute of this, Turk starts, "Think any other tributes are going to come running to us?"

Waving my arms out at my sides, I think for a second. "I don't know. Maybe. Why? Our alliance not good enough for you?"

He actually stays silent for a second thinking.

"I'm not going to be too insulted if you say yes," I throw out there. "Really. I'll only slap you once."

Turk chuckles, putting his hands in his trouser pockets. "I don't know. I was just thinking—" before I can make a joke about that, he cranes his neck to give me a silencing look—"wouldn't it be cool to have a really big alliance? Like..." He trails off for a second and then stops so abruptly I run into him.

Completely overlooking my face in his back, he turns round, seizing my shoulders. "Like having _every single tribute here_ in our alliance." He gives me a shake for emphasis.

"Well, do you have to fight them all first? Because that might be a little much for you..."

"Balderdash!"

"Okay, okay!" With a little chuckle, I squirm my way out of his grip. "But what happens after you get everyone in the arena allied with you?"

He pauses, excited mouth slowly forming into a straight line. "I... hadn't thought of that."

I snort. "But it's obvious, isn't it? Today, the arena..." I strike a dramatic pose, arms and face to the sky. "Tomorrow, _the world_! Muahahahaha!"

Turk breaks down snickering. "That-that might work." He clears his throat. "Nice evil laugh, by the way."

"Thanks! I've spent a lot of time on it."

"Okay—here, let me try." Clearing his throat again, he gets into a stance and gets out an evil chuckle of sorts. "How was that?"

I stare at him deadpan. "That was ridiculously pathetic."

"Hey!"

"Okay, here," I say, holding my hands out in front of me to stop him. "So, for you, I think it would work a lot better if you kick the register down some—" In the corner of my eye I catch Egypt staring at us.

"Hey, get back to watching for enemies," I holler, shaking a fist at him before resuming Turk's lesson.


	34. Hold On

Recommended Listening: Oh Sherrie by Steve Perry

* * *

**Anglynn Redulite, District 2**

I cannot move. Well, I'm still shivering hard, but that's not going to get me out of this crevasse. Trying to move my trapped limbs hasn't been that fruitful, either.

But I have to get out of here somehow. I'm soaked in freezing water and surrounded by ice, and that's really not a good thing. I can't take anything off to keep my clothes from holding the water on my skin, and my allies all seem to have run off where they can't hear me, anyway. Some help they are.

And honestly all of this is stupid Cisca's fault. If she knew how to run in a straight line, I wouldn't have tripped over her. And then I wouldn't have been drenched or carried away and jammed into this crack in the ice.

I curse the girl as I try again to at least get my right foot out of the trench. It's still not working well, even though my shivering is starting to die down. With an exasperated sigh, I relax, trying to figure out what I should attempt next. It's not very easy since I'm too tired to focus much.

"Anglynn!"

I lie here confused for a second, ice pressing hard on my shoulder, before I think to look up. Half a metre or so up, at the top of the crevasse, is Flying Mint Bunny, swooping down. Not sure exactly how to respond for a second, I just watch until he lands on the one shoulder free of the ice. He's not quite as warm as I thought he'd be.

"Are you okay?" he says, hopping up to my neck and nudging his muzzle into my jawline.

"Uh-huh," I say absentmindedly before shaking my head. "Well—no? I mean—" it's a struggle to put the words together—"I'm alive, but this isn't the best situation?"

Flying Mint Bunny nods. "I'll help however I can. What do you want me to do?"

"Get me out?"

My friend pauses but eventually tries to unwedge me from the ice. I don't think it's working.

"Here," I say before losing my train of thought. Um...

I just feel Flying Mint Bunny nudge my free shoulder. "Do you want me to try to get the others?"

"Oh!" I yawn, trying to stretch before I remember I can't move for the most part. "Yes—yes, please."

Flying Mint Bunny nods, flapping his wings and starting to shrink from my view. It'll be fine now. He'll go get... the others... who are the others?

"Hurry," I say weakly, feeling far too faint to get out anything else before he flies away.

**Nada Ott, District 11**

I drift awake, the heat at my side proof White Bear is still there. I'm not sure when I dozed off. I should watch that. It's life-threatening and all out here...

Shuffling out of my sleeping bag—probably why I fell asleep—I take a look round. No one seems to be coming for me at the moment. That's good.

I sit up with a sigh. Nothing to do, and barely a handful to eat. I hope White Bear doesn't mind. He has to be terribly hungry, but he seems more interested in sleeping than eating me. And... actually, I could eat him—I do have a knife—but that doesn't seem right. Especially when he's all I have left for comfort.

So nobody's eating anyone right now. I can handle that. Not happily, but I'll survive. The hunger, at least. I can't say what else is going to happen to me.

Leaning forward, I put my elbows on my knees and look at my surroundings. So much snow it makes my eyes hurt, as well as some icy trees in the distance. They're quite pretty. I doubt they have anything useful, though, so it's not worth the risk.

Some motion by my feet makes me jump before I realise it's just White Bear waking up.

"Good morning," I murmur as he stretches and turns to look at me. "Or whatever time it is. Let's say morning."

I stroke him behind the ears for a bit. He just stares at me, looking curious. For I second I think he doesn't recognise me, but he must. Surely he wouldn't be so comfortable with me petting him if that were the case.

White Bear lets me scrub at the fur behind his ears for a moment more before shaking his head and walking a few steps away. He noses through the snow for a minute before sneezing and backing up towards me.

"What are you doing, silly?" I mumble as he takes a step onto the sleeping bag, his rump hitting the side of my leg. He turns to stare at me for a second then settles down again.

A big lump of snow is stuck on his nose. It makes me want to laugh, although I don't. Instead I just reach forwards to brush it off him. It could only be making him chillier, after all.

Without even touching his nose, I manage to knock some of the clump into the rest of the snow. To get the rest, I lower my arm a bit more and sort of scrape it off him.

As soon as I start to drag my gloved fingers across his nose, he makes a sound—of pain?—and scoots away. He dips his nose in the snow again and, noticing the stuff sticking to him this time, shakes it off. He turns to look at me but doesn't draw nearer just yet.

"I'm sorry," I stammer. "Did that hurt?"

I reach out a hand to pet him, but he keeps staring at me. I suddenly think he's about to bite and take my hand away, but he just watches me warily for a second before deciding my body heat is worth the trouble. He snuggles up next to my leg again, facing away from me.

I guess his nose is really sensitive. I'll make sure I don't try to touch it again, then.

Hm. I'm this worried about hurting a mutt. What on earth am I going to do when I have to hurt a person…?

**Amantius Redulite, District 2**

We come plodding back to camp all but victorious. The arena's just crap this year. It's too big. And too hard to keep trudging through. I wonder if the sponsors would send us a bulldozer or something.

For some reason I end up looking at the sky, though I'm not honestly expecting heavy machinery to come drifting down. But there's nothing. A bird flying over there—or not? Thought I saw something. Oh, well.

Now to go tell Rica someone got away. Fun stuff.

**Italo Veneziano, District 10**

Today is a good day. We got enough food Ermine let me eat enough to be full, and we're not doing any moving today, so I just get to lie here and doze.

Well, we actually did some more walking earlier to get the rest of the supplies. I think Ermine was going to have us go right after we set these down, but she had to sort a bunch of stuff first. So we left for it today, but there was just a big hole in the ground. I tried to look inside to see how deep it was, but I almost fell and Ermine had to save me. It was really deep, though. I couldn't see any of the stuff we left in there.

But Ermine wouldn't let me keep looking because she probably thought I'd fall in again, so we came back, and here we are. There's a nice fire going, and Ermine and Riben are talking to each other about something, but I'm not really paying attention.

I wonder if it's suppertime yet. I don't think so. Is it snack time yet? That should be closer. I wonder if Ermine will actually let me have a snack today.

I wake up a little bit to ask her about it, but I've only just interrupted her conversation when a cannon blows. She looks up at the sky until the hovercraft, which is pretty far away, goes to pick up somebody. Then she turns back towards me.

"Now what was so important?" she asks.

"Can I have a snack for snack time?"

"No," she says without thinking about it first. Then she turns back to Riben. "So, what do you mean that was your first reaping? Aren't you thirteen?"

Riben nods. "I was ill the year before. And even before that. I fell ill quite often after China died." He looks down at his knees.

Ermine frowns. "That's terrible, for a kid your age. I wasn't very sickly, but I still didn't spend much time outside the house because we were so poor. It must be even worse to be alone when you feel awful. All the time, too…" She shakes her head, tracing a pattern in the snow. It's a bunch of squares and angles, but it's pretty.

Riben either does nothing or nods really, really lightly. I'm not sure what they do after that because I fall asleep again.


	35. Slip

Recommended Listening: Walk Like an Egyptian by The Bangles

* * *

**Rica States, District 4**

I am leading another hunt _right now_. I don't care if I can barely walk. Someone has to make up for Ivan being a failure, and nobody else is fit to do it.

After a quick, late lunch, I point at Cisca, Amantius, and Yao to come with me—I refuse to let Ivan screw up two hunts in one day, whether he's pretending to lead or not—and we head out. Amantius is technically taking the lead since he can walk faster than me, but I'm not dead last. My hip has mostly healed anyway—it's the stab wound from the second-worst Communist that's still ailing me.

"So," starts Cisca, who's keeping pace next to me, "what do you think happened to Anglynn?"

"Dunno."

"There was a cannon earlier," Yao puts in.

I put my hands behind my head. "Maybe she went after the tribute the rest of you lost, then. Wouldn't surprise me."

"She's taking awfully long getting back, though," Amantius comments.

Cisca inhales. "Maybe she's not coming back."

Amantius gives her a look, then shrugs. "She did seem pretty pissed off about not getting to shoot anyone. She could have gone off on her own to claim her own kills or something. She'll probably freeze to death without all our supplies, though."

I cross my arms. "At least someone's getting something done."

She'd better come back, though. As far as this Career group goes, she and Cisca are the only ones I can stand. And Anglynn's the only one I can stand that can also fight. Or at least I think she can. She got a decent training score, anyway.

We continue through the snow, taking the smoothest path. I swear the path isn't quite in the same direction as the last time we went this way, but maybe it's just me. I don't think the ground would randomly move up and down without us noticing. None of this is easy walking for me, anyway. Stupid Communist...

We come up to a fairly big grove of those ice trees. Though there's too much in the way for me to make out details, there are some dark blobs. Please be tributes. With an "s." I could really use a few kills today.

**Egypt Hassan, District 12**

Turk and Romania are discussing the best way to fight someone with nothing but a broken pencil—I honestly can't tell how serious they are—when we first notice something entering the forest. In the middle of his insistence that Romania's argument is invalid because with his skill, he doesn't even need to worry about weapons anyway, Turk cuts off and stands up, looking past me. Romania and I look over curiously to see the figures.

Human figures. Tributes. Of course, anything coming towards us would be bad news in this place.

As I start to take my first steps away, Turk withdraws his sword.

Romania gives him a sideways look. "What was that about not needing a weapon?"

"We were talking about one versus one, okay?" Turk responds, shifting the handle in his grip. "One versus... four, not so much." He looks over at us. "Or three versus four, I guess, but..."

No sooner are we able to make out the number than we can figure out who it is. Four Careers, including the one that almost got Romania. Just in case our odds weren't terrible enough already.

Romania bites her lip, putting her weight on the balls of our feet. "I'm not sure we can take the Careers that easily."

"How so?" Turk responds immediately, sounding insulted of all things.

"Well, first, they're all armed, and we have a total of one scimitar. A bit out-weaponed. And outnumbered. Probably out-powered, too."

Turk frowns, looking at his scimitar and back up at the group.

"Just run," I snap, turning round and taking off. I don't care much whether they follow me. It's been nice to have a little food and some people to help keep warm, but this alliance just isn't comfortable for me. Neither of them seems that much of a danger to me, but I still can't trust them completely.

I would also prefer not to watch them die. I guess I sort of do care whether they follow me.

A glance over my shoulder proves the two have finally turned, coming my way. At least they do have some sense. That, or the power of me speaking for once did it. Neither option seems particularly more likely.

The Careers are still after us, of course. I can't exactly tell from one look, but I imagine they're at least keeping up. We'll wear out before they do. Something other than just running has to be done, or we're doomed. I don't have any genius ideas.

By now Romania's keeping up with me, and Turk has taken the lead. We're going through the last of the trees, and then we'll be out in the snow. Maybe if we can top a hill, we'll have enough time to sort of burrow under the snow? But no, our footprints would still lead straight to our hiding places. We don't have time to rub everything out.

So basically our best hope is for the Gamemakers to go after the Careers with some strange mutt or arena thing.

I sigh internally. Here's hoping we can somehow take them out after all, weapons or not.

**Turk Adnan, District 7**

I'm hurrying through the snow, sword still at the ready in case they catch up, when my right foot falls down on air. I'm pushing ahead too hard to regain my balance as I tumble down into one of those stupid cracks in the ground. My shoulder smacks into one side of the ice, and I go sliding in sideways.

And keep sliding. It's getting a little more cramped, but I'm still not trapped. On the other hand, I can't get a grip on the sides. I try stabbing, but the crack I make isn't enough to hold me before too far to reach it again.

About the time I can barely see the sky past the curve of ice, I hit the bottom. It knocks the breath out of me, so I can't quite respond when Romania hollers my name. By the time her voice has stopped echoing, though, I can suck in enough air to yell that I'm alive. Injured—nothing feels _particularly_ broken, at least—but alive.

I can barely react I see her start coming down. Trying to find purchase on the snow and ice, I scrabble over the ground. There's a little room to my side at this depth, so I hurry over as Romania comes hurtling down. With what's going on outside, I expect Egypt's going to follow, probably without saying anything. There might be enough room...

Romania's about to hit the ground when I've made it to a seated position. It's too late for me to try to break her fall, so she thuds to the ground like I did. Coughing, she tries to get up, and I help her. We're both standing by the time Egypt comes. We sort of catch him.

Trying to clear her throat, Romania looks up.

"Think they'll follow us?" I ask.

She shrugs, putting a finger to her lips. "Your voice was kind of faint, so I made it look like I didn't hear anything and then just jumped in out of panic." She grins. "Managed to trip Egypt into falling in after me."

"Sweet." I look up, ready to see the Career peering down any moment.

"Think we should all lay on the ground bent-up and broken-like?" she starts, lowering herself.

"Well, they'll know we're not dead."

"They won't know we're not dying."

I shrug, sitting down carefully. "Might as well."

We hurry, piling onto each other in order. I set my sword to the side and try to splay my limbs out in the least comfortable way possible. With all three of us crammed in here, I don't think it's too difficult for any of us.

I go ahead and close my eyes, just in case, so I don't know just when the Careers look over, but nobody seems to be coming for us at first. I really hope it stays that way.

In this crowded a place, I can't fight my best, after all.


	36. Managing

Recommended Listening: Let It Ride by Bachman-Turner Overdrive

* * *

**Holland Mogens, District 7**

I appear to be safe. Either the Careers are frozen to the ground somewhere, or they've given up on looking for me.

On the other hand, unless I try to fell a tree and block up the river again, that was a one-time trick. The next time someone comes for me, I'm going to have to defend myself otherwise. Unfortunately there don't seem to be any more ice trees out this way. I'll just have to keep walking.

Lowering myself to brush snow over some of my trail, I just notice a glint from the sky. I set my sleeping bag and things down as the donation descends, after a few moments landing in my hands. Pulling away the parachute and stuffing it in my pocket, I peruse the item.

It's not very big, and I don't see any sheath following it down, but it's a pretty nice-looking sword. Definitely better than a couple of icicles.

I've had a few donations before, but this seems like something a lot more expensive than a few pieces of wood. I guess the sponsors enjoyed my performance, or what have you. They didn't get to watch me being torn to shreds, so I wouldn't think the Capitol would be pleased, but it must prove I'm intelligent or something.

Or I need to draw blood next time.

Well, I'll take it. It's not as if I'll get home without killing anyone, so the easier it is to do, the better.

Propping a dull side against my shoulder carefully, I pick up my things and get moving again.

**Cisca Lemieux, District 1**

"Is this seriously happening right now?" Rica takes another look down the crevasse before kicking a snow drift. "Did we lose _more_?"

Amantius crosses his arms. "Well, they're not actually dead yet."

"What am I supposed to do about it?" Rica snaps, fingers tense round her bat. "Jump down to get them and break my legs? Throw my bat and lose it forever?"

"If they do die of this," Yao puts in, "it could still be credited to you, since you were chasing them and all."

"It's not the _same!"_ With a roar, Rica brings her bat down on the ground, sending fissures through the ice. She stays bent over for a minute, breathing heavily, before snapping her weapon back off the ground and marching. Looks like we're headed back for camp.

This time no one tries to overtake Rica, though I still keep up. She doesn't seem to mind—or maybe she just doesn't notice—so I don't get too worried about it. She's still limping some, but the way she's storming ahead you wouldn't think she felt any pain in her legs.

"There are other tributes out here yet," I start, very quiet.

"And they'll probably get to run off like dumb rabbits, too!" she retorts, not looking at me.

I take a deep breath. "Well, if nothing else, there's always Ivan, right?" I say jokingly.

Still hurrying ahead, she doesn't reply at first, but she slowly breaks into a horrible grin.

"Rica...?"

Smile a bit less feral, she turns to me for a second before looking back ahead. "Really not a bad idea. The first failure today was his fault, anyway. And I bet if he hadn't pissed me off, I would have left later for these guys, and they would have been somewhere a little different where they wouldn't have gotten to that crack."

She turns her bat in her hands. "Yeah. We can solve quite a few problems with this."

I try to think of a way to convince her otherwise, but I don't think it's going to happen. Instead, I slowly let myself drop back in the group, Rica still charging ahead. I end up in line with Yao.

"Did you hear all of that?" I ask him, quiet enough Rica shouldn't overhear.

He nods, frowning.

"It can't be good for the group, but I don't think I can convince her out of it." I bite my lip, looking at him sideways. "If she kills Ivan, all I can say is I hope she stops there. In her mood, I can't promise that'll happen."

"Yeah," he mutters, watching the back of her head.

I cross my arms, shivering. "But maybe she'll be injured enough by Ivan not to do anything. Or maybe he'll kill her back." I shake my head. "Losing both leaders at once like that..."

I pause for a while as we walk. Yao contemplates this but doesn't make reply just yet.

"Though, to be honest," I say, dropping my voice even more, "neither's been the best at leading... Maybe you could take a crack at it. You have a brain, and you actually did some decent damage to Ermine."

He raises his eyebrows. "Doesn't sound bad, honestly."

"Yeah," I agree before pausing and looking ahead at Rica. "But—still, it wouldn't be good for two of our group to get killed. Let's hope it doesn't happen." I smile. "Maybe I can get Amantius—and Anglynn, if she comes back—to mutiny for you afterwards. It could still work."

He looks blankly ahead at Rica for a moment. "Yeah," he replies, though he seems unconvinced.

We fall silent after that, and I drop back to where Amantius is walking.

"Looks like things are going to get crazy once we're back at camp," I say, looking at him sideways. "Think you're ready?"

He shrugs. "I still have my sword. Think you can keep out of the way?"

"I'll do my best."

**Romania Viorel, District 6**

I shiver, trying to keep my back from hitting the icy wall. It's just as bad as the frozen forest.

Well, temperature-wise. Other than that, well, we have enough room to all stand but not lie down without being squished together, we don't have any supplies, and it's not looking like we're going to climb out of here that easily.

There are a few ridges on the walls, but Egypt has already tried climbing on them. It's too hard not to slip on the ice. Even if our boots are for these conditions, the gloves are hopelessly slick.

We're too far down to try stacking on top of each other, though we're pretty bad at that. In case we needed to experience firsthand what it would have been like to actually fall on top of each other, well... yeah. That happened. Turk's not happy about us apparently bruising his ribs further.

So now we're just recovering, waiting for another idea to strike us. Or maybe someone could donate a ladder. That would be nice.

"How expensive are ladders, anyway?" I say.

Turk frowns. "Dunno." He looks up. "Think they could send one?"

"They're the Capitol. They can do whatever they want."

Turk shrugs, watching the curvy sliver of clouds for a minute longer before deciding a ladder isn't coming down soon enough to keep looking.

With a sigh that clouds up in front of me, I keep watching.

**Nada Ott, District 11**

I'm just about to stop for the day and attempt to melt some snow in my gloves when I hear something different.

"Do you hear that, White Bear?" I start, looking over at my companion.

Predictably, he doesn't say anything. Why am I talking to him?

Inhaling, I bundle my sleeping bag a little tighter to my chest and keep walking. The sound gets a bit clearer, and I start to feel less nervous about it. I really think that's water. Liquid water. I'm not sure how at this temperature, but maybe it's harder to freeze if it's running. Whatever the case, I'll take it.

Still looking all round for anyone coming up on me, I get a bit farther before I can actually see the little river. It looks really nice. It must still be cold, but at least I don't have to worry about melting it. It's clear, too.

Still, I guess I should make sure it's safe. There could always be some dead thing upstream contaminating things. I won't go too far looking, but I should at least be careful about it. If I get sick, I'll probably either die of that or of someone finding me in that condition. And there are a lot of people, myself included, who wouldn't want me to die.

Not all of them are still alive.

Swallowing, I stop for a second to pet White Bear, trying to calm myself even though it all seems so wrong.

It's going to be fine. I'm—I'm just checking out the water now. Just take it one step at a time. One step at a time.

Pulling myself back up, I get walking again.


	37. MAD

A/N: If anyone's interested (or if you're not), I've started up a weblog at novellingwithjourney. blogspot . com. Go check it out, and tell all of your friends and acquaintances. It'll be fun.

Recommended Listening: Back in the USSR by The Beatles

* * *

**Ivan Muskov, District 4**

Rolling a snowball across the ground, I look up to see the others getting back. Finally! It was getting pretty boring here without a Rica to annoy.

And it doesn't sound like they got any kills, too. That's bad, but that's good because now Rica knows she's really not any better of a leader than me. She's kinda dense, so she probably needed this to drive in the point.

Wondering if I should greet her by throwing the snowball, I watch the group come closer. Nobody looks that happy, but Rica's really mad. When she loses her cool this much over setbacks, it's all the more obvious I'm a better leader.

I toss the snowball in my hand and catch it a few times before the other Careers have made it to the edge of the bowl. After they get to the bottom, I decide to go ahead and throw.

Rica doesn't even try to dodge, and it hits her in the face, clods of it sticking to her while some falls off.

"Welcome back," I laugh.

Rica's still storming towards me, now wiping the snow off her face. She's probably going to get me back, though it's silly to come this close to throw a snowball. I guess she is weaker than me, though, so I'll allow it.

But she's almost within arm's range, and she still hasn't scooped up any snow. Her hands are occupied with her bat, actually, but I don't see why she doesn't put it down. Maybe her gloves are frozen to it.

Before I can knowingly react, the bat crashes into the side of my face. Falling to the side, I quickly move my feet under me and look back up. Rica's gearing up to hit me again.

This time I block with my pipe. A sharp clang rings out, and both of us push off of the other's weapon, readying for battle. Not what I expected, but okay!

This should be even more fun.

**Yao Qin, District 1**

Both of the Fours have out-of-place smiles as they get ready to fight. Blood is already dribbling down the side of Ivan's face, but he doesn't seem to mind, and Rica doesn't seem to think it's enough.

After rebounding from the blocked hit, both rush in swinging. They block each other's weapons, but Rica plants her foot in Ivan's stomach. He bends, staggering away from the force, but brings his pipe round and gets Rica in the head. Before her kicking foot is even back on the ground, she swings again. Ivan bends back, nearly falling over, and responds with a crushing strike to her ribs.

Rica loses her balance, falling to the ground and barely catching herself with her hands. Ivan towers over, raising his pipe for another blow, and brings his weapon down. Rica blocks, bat held out with hands at both ends, before she scoots back a bit and starts to push herself back up. During this, Ivan swings at an upward angle, catching the side of her head with his pipe before she can completely dodge.

With a growl, Rica pushes herself back to her feet in a rush, wasting no time before swinging the bat. Ivan blocks, trying to push her back, but she doesn't budge. Sidestepping instead, she ducks under Ivan's next swipe and forces her bat into his ribs. He doubles over, and she quickly takes the opportunity to remove her bat and swing down on his head.

He goes down. Rica steps in for the finishing strike, but he rolls over, holding his pipe out protectively, and her bat rebounds away with a clash. He hurriedly curls to the side a bit, using one arm to push himself up and holding his weapon out with the other. He parries a blow from Rica, though the pipe almost flies from his hand, before finally pushing himself to his feet. His head nearly out of Rica's reach now, she aims for his pipe to knock it away. He pulls back a step or two to dodge, readjusting his grip before falling back in and swinging for her head. She brings up her bat to block, and this time Ivan buries his foot in her stomach.

Coughing, Rica slides back, only lowering her bat when Ivan pulls his pipe back. Another swing on both their parts has their weapons clash, and they stand like that for a second, pushing against each other and struggling for breath.

Is either of them going to win this? They've both taken some bad damage, especially when we're all already a little banged-up, but obviously nothing's been lethal yet.

And if I'm going to be honest with myself, I want this to be lethal. At least for Rica. While I can't exactly trust Ivan, he's at least attempted to be friendly, but Rica just pushes everyone around. I've been ignored and forced into doing things I don't want for long enough in my life. I don't need that here, too.

Really, being the leader doesn't sound bad, either. Have someone actually listening to me instead of always shrugging off my advice and doing what they think sounds good. And it's not like I couldn't handle it. Someone has to lead, and if those two are gone, I have at least Cisca—and since Amantius is always kissing at her and whatnot, I might as well count him in, too—behind me.

But that's still just if those two are gone. If they don't die by their own hands...

I look back over at them to see that they're back at it. Neither of their heads seems to be bleeding particularly more, but Ivan has an arm over his ribs and Rica is doubled over from something. With his free arm Ivan swings down at her neck, but she sidesteps and cracks her bat into his back. Not smiling anymore, he whips around, bringing his pipe to her skull before he tumbles to the ground hacking up blood. Rica spins from the impact, able to stay on her feet though she staggers away, looking dizzy.

I bring her down with a hit from the wok.

I think Ivan's done for, but I can't quite say the same for her. It's about time I did something myself.

Raising my weapon of choice, I hurry to bring it down again before she can dodge, but she gets the bat enough in the way to avoid damage. Pushing away with the bat, she twists and pushes herself to a seated position. Before she can get further than that, I swing again, sideways this time. The wok collides with her head, and she goes skidding to the side, but she doesn't stop pushing herself to her feet. She's breathing too heavily to make a comment on my rebellion, but she does give me an angry look. For all I know she was planning to kill me after she finished Ivan, but she obviously wants to watch him die.

We end up swinging our weapons at the same time, and they clang off each other. Wok flat out in front of my chest, I charge to bowl her over before she can pull her bat back in. With an "ugh," she topples over, but she grabs the edge of my weapon, nearly pulling me down with her. I tug the wok out of her grasp as she sits up, and she immediately clamps her freed hand round the bat and swings at my knee. Something pops, and it's sudden enough I collapse to the cold ground. I only just push my face out of the snow before another crack from the bat hits the back of my head.

Struggling to wiggle back to at least my knees, I hold the wok over my head for protection, but Rica doesn't strike again. I carefully move my weapon enough to look at her. Taking shuddering breaths, she wipes away some blood trying to get into her eye. The left side of her head is already caked with the stuff, and she's awfully wobbly. I don't think she's going to make it without medical attention. So I'll just back away and keep from hurting myself more...

A cannon fires. Rica's still sitting up, but Ivan has stopped coughing. Sure enough, after a moment a hovercraft appears above, scooping up Ivan and some of the bloodstained snow beneath him.

I look back over at Rica just in time to see the bat flying at my face. It smashes into my forehead before I can dodge, and I lose consciousness.


	38. Planning and Playing

Recommended Listening: Shout by Tears for Fears

* * *

**Amantius Redulite, District 2**

"Think he's going to survive?" Cisca asks, crouching over where Yao is crumpled in the snow.

He's the only one left to ask about. Ivan's been gone for a while, and Rica's being scooped up as we speak.

"Dunno," I say. He definitely doesn't look good, but I'm not much of an expert on this. "Do you want him to survive?"

With a sigh, Cisca puts her chin in her hands. "I don't know. I wasn't planning on this happening until after we got Ermine's group, but the best chance just came early." She looks up at me. "Think he'll be able to help with that if he survives?"

I cross my arms. "He was pretty beat up even before this, but I can't say for sure. Probably not."

"Well, that would be the only reason for keeping him." She gnaws on her lip a bit.

"All right, then, no." I plunge my sword through his chest. "I don't think he's going to survive."

Exhaling, Cisca backs away as the cannon fires. I pull out the blade and step back to make room for the hovercraft.

"What, too much blood for you?" I start as she rubs her arms.

"Yeah," she sighs. "But what are you going to do, right?"

I just smirk, watching the hovercraft claw descend. The joints creak miserably as they do their job. Either this isn't the Capitol's best hovercraft, or they don't take to the cold much.

"All for survival's sake," I say with a shrug. "So. Feel like supper?"

She drags a hand through her hair. "Yeah. I'll go make something."

**Romania Viorel, District 6**

It's especially hard to tell when we can't see where the sun is, but apparently nightfall has come. The anthem has started, and the faces must be starting up. While we don't really want to back away from the fire—we have enough sponsors for a few could-be rungs, but not a whole ladder, apparently—the best view of the sky is just two or three steps away, so we go on ahead.

Four faces tonight. All of them Careers.

Turk whistles. "Wonder what happened."

"Maybe they fell down a hole and died," I snort, starting to pull back towards the fire.

Turk gives me a look. "Seriously?"

I shrug, crouching by the source of heat and watching the flames reflect on the smooth ice behind. Maybe the stuff is melting a little, though I don't think a whole wall is going to come splashing down conveniently.

"Do you think we could melt handholds in the wall?" I start, looking up at the others, who are also by the fire by now.

Turk looks up at the ice surrounding us. "Maybe so."

"We already have handholds," says Egypt. "They're just too slick."

I blink at the Twelve. "Wow, you're just really talkative today."

He doesn't reply.

"I guess they would still be slick if we melted more," Turk says, leaning back against an icy wall for a second.

I exhale, lips close enough together they flap with a sound. "It was worth a shot."

"Yup."

We sit round the fire for a minute before Turk stands back up.

"What now?" I start as he takes a few steps away, looking at the wall a bit above him.

"I have a new idea," he says, cracking his knuckles. "We pretty much can't go up, right? So we just have to bring everything else down instead!"

"And how do we do that?" I respond, though I have a feeling already what he's going to say.

"Like this!" he shouts, pulling back an arm and then slamming a fist into the side of the crevasse. I think a little clod of snow comes tumbling off one of the ridges above.

"Not sure that's going to do it," I say, crossing my legs.

"Is, too!" Turk responds, rubbing his knuckles for a second. "I just have to find the right spot!"

He shuffles a bit farther away and strikes again. There's no better response from the ice. He's still not particularly dissuaded and goes on punching.

"Really not sure that's going to do it," I singsong.

"Shut up," he says, gearing up for the next punch.

"Can you at least stop before you hurt yourself?"

His fist crashes into the ice. "Too late. This stuff is pretty solid." He shakes out his hand and walks to another spot, pulling his arm back.

"Wow," I mouth, deadpan. "Your brother hit you in the head too hard a couple times?"

He strikes the ice again. "Bah! He's too much of a pansy for that."

"Okay... Your parents drop you on the head when you were a baby?"

"Now that is perfectly feasible." He pauses before his next punch. "Not that I have any mental issues."

"Why do you think I'm asking about this?"

He just turns and sticks his tongue out before resuming his punching business. A few more strikes, and Egypt has to scoot out of the way or Turk'll probably kick him or something. Apparently Egypt was in fact not sitting by the sweet spot, so he gets to move back after that.

I just look up at the cloudy but bright sky hoping for more parachutes. If we can't get a ladder, food would be nice. I had some crackers in a coat pocket, but they fell out somewhere during the scramble. Gee, thanks, outfit designer.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts by a loud, crashing pop. Starting, I look back down about me to see Turk's arm sticking through a jagged hole in the ice. I gape, and Turk pulls his fist out, grinning back at me.

"Oh, ye of little faith!" he bellows before plowing his hand through again, a bit further down. More chunks of ice break away and tumble onto the thin layer of snow.

"What is happening right now?" I say blankly, sitting up straight.

"Me being a genius." After a few more strikes to the weirdly thin wall of ice, he kneels down and starts pulling away loose chunks. I pad over, sweeping some of the pieces away and peering into the hole. The floor goes on, but it's too dark to see much more. At any rate there's not just more ice behind it.

Turk rips off some more ice, throwing some more punches around the edges until a clear arch about half my height makes the entryway. Or exitway. He actually keeps punching a bit past that, but he doesn't make any more progress than before.

"Again I say, what is happening right now?"

Turk pokes his head through the arch, but apparently that doesn't give him a much better view since everything's still dark and all.

"I think I found a secret passageway," he says, ducking back out. "Toss me a lit piece of wood and I'll check it out."

I fish out a decently unburnt stick from the fire and hand it over. Then I take another one for myself. Turk glances at me for this, and I shrug.

"Like I've got something better to do down here?"

"True." He looks over his shoulder. "You coming, Egypt?"

Egypt looks at us, up at the sky, and back at the fire before shaking his head.

"Have fun, then," I say, following Turk as he lowers himself and start crawling through the entry.

"Looks like a tunnel for a couple metres," he says as his feet pass out of the main crevasse. "Then I think it opens up."

"Works for me," I say, hunkering down and starting to follow.

I crawl behind him over the ice, keeping enough distance he won't kick me in the face when he moves his knees. We go on quietly—wow, Turk being quiet?—until I'm about two metres in from the entrance. That's when Turk wriggles around, throwing his legs out in front of him and scooting forwards with his hands. He swings the burning stick in front of him, apparently out of the tunnel from the lack of light that follows. And then he just sits there.

"Yet again: what is happening right now?"

After a moment's pause, he says, "Come see" and slides himself down into whatever chamber opens up ahead.

Shivering, I shuffle closer until I can see the edge of the tunnel. A few shafts of light filter down into the area ahead, so I don't really need to swing the flaming wood about to see what we've come upon.


	39. Get Up and Run

Recommended Listening: Invisible Touch by Genesis

* * *

**Riben Wang, District 6**

When I wake for the morning, Ermine is packing up. I look to see if anything is coming, but we're still surrounded by an untouched field of white.

She notices my puzzlement. "Nothing's come at us yet," she says, securing her sleeping bag closed. "But most of the Careers are gone, so we should be particularly prepared for a mutt or arena aspect to chase us towards someone."

Nodding at a little pile of peaches near the fire, she finishes, "I already laid out breakfast, if you want to take your portion."

With a nod, I take one fruit and start eating. It's cold enough to hurt my teeth, but at least it's not frozen solid.

I eat away quietly, watching Ermine put things into three careful piles. I'm not sure whether the lightest one is mine or Italo's, though I would think his is the one consisting mostly of backpacks. That way he has less of a chance to drop things.

She finishes dividing things into piles—including a leftover one since there's too much to carry that quickly—and walks back this way, stoking the fire with a last handful of wood and looking over her shoulder at Italo.

"It's morning," she hollers. "Get up."

Italo doesn't budge.

"There's food," she adds with a frown.

Italo immediately casts the top cover of his sleeping bag away and sits up, turning to face the fire to see if it's true. Rubbing his eyes, he yawns and gets up, heavy footsteps plodding towards the peaches. Ermine, now that she's finished dividing the other supplies, pulls up Italo's sleeping bag and takes her share.

"Be prepared to move," she says to Italo, though she doesn't sound convinced he's listening. "If we have to run, you get the pile with the backpack and blankets. _Don't_—" she snaps in front of his face to get his attention for this—"just take off unless I say otherwise. You're fast enough not to worry."

Italo nods quickly before returning to happily munching on his peach.

**Nada Ott, District 11**

The wind's starting to blow pretty hard today. I've built up a little snowbank, but the frozen ground is too high up for me to have much to work with. I prefer to keep inside the sleeping bag with White Bear at my back. It's a lot warmer when I don't have to worry so much about melting snow because of the river.

I walked a decent bit upriver without seeing anything polluting, so I stopped and drank, and I don't seem to be ill yet. The water's as cold as it would be if I had just melted it, but it's still a lot less trouble beforehand. So, not everything is terrible right now. Most of this, definitely, but not everything.

I stay inside the bag for as long as I dare before peeking out to make sure no one's coming. The sudden blast of white from all the snow is a bit blinding, but even after blinking for a bit I can't make out anything moving towards me. I retreat back inside the sleeping bag.

I guess I should be less worried since so many of the Careers are gone. But one of the two that wanted to rip me to pieces is still alive, and I'm still in the Hunger Games, so really it's not much better.

White Bear shuffles, shoving his weight closer to me so that I'm cramped in the bag. Not wanting to stick my face and arms out in the cold, I try to tolerate it, but there's not much breathing room. With a sigh, I come out, shuffling a shoulder and starting to push him away. He protests before finally just getting to his feet and taking a step or two away.

Inhaling deeply, I start to pull myself back into the sleeping bag, but a growling sound stops me. I give White Bear a look, but he's just sitting there normally.

Just past him, though, is something else. From the size and shape, I think it's an adult bear. From the growling and the way it's approaching, I think it's probably White Bear's mother and she's about to kill me.

Not breathing, I find my knife instinctively. But she's probably about as tall as I am, her legs much bulkier than my arms. If she even swats at me, I'm probably dead.

Huh. I'm probably going to actually die right now...

Mama Bear gets close enough I can see her jagged teeth, and I get up and run before I'm much aware of what I'm doing. I'm almost to the river before I turn right and keep going. I don't know what's in this direction, but there's a pretty big slope the other way, and the last thing I want to do is lose my footing on that.

I've barely gone some ways before a huge crevasse starts to run alongside me. Was this here earlier? I feel like I would have spotted something like this...

Though my mind's somewhat distracted, I keep pushing ahead. My feet hit the ground hard—I think the frozen soil has given way to ice now—and when I look Mama Bear is coming behind me. I can't see White Bear. Apparently he can't talk her out of this.

Almost skidding on one patch of ice, I gasp, struggling to regain my balance as Mama Bear comes in closer. I stumble a bit more before getting back to running. The jar of impact is making my injured leg hurt, but I can't pay attention to that. I'm pretty sure whatever Mama Bear has planned for me hurts a lot worse.

Or maybe she'll just bite down on my head, and it'll be so quick I don't feel a thing. Better than what the Careers had planned, but I don't want to die here at all, so not that comforting. And since the Capitol's probably controlling her to some extent or at least engineered her, she's probably going to make this bloody and drawn-out and plenty painful.

Trying to run faster but not doing particularly well, I continue by the side of the river. Maybe she'll just skid and fall in. That's probably my only hope because there's no way I can fight her with a little knife, and I'm pretty sure I'll run out of steam before she does. I'll have to trick her somehow if I want to win. And by the sounds of her footfalls, I'm going to have to do it soon.

In the distance I see some more icy trees like those I passed earlier. Maybe I could run her into one of those? They are sort of clear, so if her vision's bad, maybe she'll fall for it. And even if she can just bust them down, I might be able to stun her and get farther ahead or something. It's the best chance I have, if I can get there before she closes in.

Frosty air jabbing at my lungs and face, I keep powering forwards, not looking back. Seeing how close I am to dying isn't going to do anything but freak me out, and that's not a particularly good thing, so no looking back. Just keeping my eyes straight ahead on that grove of trees.

I hear Mama Bear's claws scraping against the ice, getting subtly louder every time. She's probably going to catch up before I make it. She's going to catch up and tear the me up and crush me with her giant feet, and it won't be any bit better than what the Careers had planned, and it'll probably be worse since rough teeth will hurt a lot more than clean, thin blades...

Trying to keep my breathing rate reasonable, I swallow hard and continue for the grove. It's not too far away now, if I just keep sprinting...

I can feel Mama Bear's heat behind me. But I can't look back now—it won't do any good, I promise it won't do any good—

A rough, slimy tooth scratches my hand behind me.

Somehow I manage to shriek through the gasping for breath, but I just have to keep running to pull my hand back in front of me. Some skin is gouged out and stinging like mad, but Mama Bear didn't clamp down on me fast enough to get a bite out of it.

Here's hoping she won't make any more progress than this. Somehow.

Hurrying into the trees at last, I run wildly in zigzags, getting as close to the trunks as I can. Barely keeping my footing and unable to breathe fast enough, I just keep it up until I finally hear a roar and a thud behind me. It may not have quite done the trick, so I run for the next tree.

I slip.

Crashing down on my rear, I slide only a bit before the snow stops me. Throbbing and stinging and gasping, I try to push myself up, but I can't put weight on my hand, and my legs are jelly.

I'm just able to turn myself enough to see Mama Bear. By a broken tree, she sits, stunned but by no means lethally injured. I'm still doomed. I'm still doomed. Run, dang it, get up and run!

I try to push myself up again when Mama Bear gets back to her feet. With a desperate shove, I get to my feet and immediately fall back down, spots in my vision.

But Mama Bear hurries in a different direction. Panicked as I am, I can't for the life of me figure out why.

Then I see the other tribute.


	40. Man Versus Beast

Recommended Listening: She's a Beauty by The Tubes

* * *

**Holland Mogens, District 7**

In the best Hunger Games scenarios, the mutt scares a tribute out of a certain area in the direction of another tribute, and sometimes the other tribute gets the same treatment. In the worst scenarios, the mutt continues to go after tributes after they've been chased together and is still perfectly capable of mauling, killing, and possibly eating them both.

Of course, I'm caught in the worst scenario. At least I have a sword.

Ducking behind another tree, I slash out sideways, further ripping open the bear's skin. It just roars, shakes itself, and swipes another clawed paw at me. Branches shatter and bounce off me as I step out of the way, readying myself for another stab. I jab for a shoulder as it puts its foot back down, and I get in a decent wound before having to pull back. The bear's teeth clash in front of my face as I hurry to dodge.

I tumble over to the next tree, readying the sword as the bear charges. I sidestep round the tree, the ice crashing into the bear's shoulder, and stab it in the back. Before it can pull back, I stab at its face, but it's smart enough to duck before growling at me, exposing its large, rough teeth. With a grunt, I aim the blade for its face again, but it lowers its head quickly, spinning to swipe another huge paw at me. I take quick steps back, get my feet stable, and lunge at its neck. The sword hacks away fur and draws some blood, but it's not enough damage to keep the bear from growling. It gnashes its teeth at me, barely missing my throat.

With a gasp, I back up a bit more, not slashing until the bear lashes out at me. I get a good hit to its cheek, but it doesn't care. The thing's either too enraged to care, or there's something seriously wrong with its sense of touch. If I had this many holes in me, I'd probably at least act like they were there.

Wondering how I'm going to kill it when it doesn't even seem weakened, I jump out of the path of its paw and land back on my feet, slashing at its neck again. It's too shallow to even draw blood this time. A tree between us, the bear has to manoeuvre a bit before it can get to me. I take the opportunity to regroup.

I'm obviously not going to drive it away, so I have to kill it. Going for its neck isn't working so well, and there's no way I'll get to internal organs—too much blubber and fluff, and the bear's too tall for me to easily stab from above. Maybe I could try for its brain, but that's not going to be easy, either. Its face is big enough I could drive my sword through an eye, but I'll have to do it just right to get anywhere. With it after me and not easily taken aback, that's not going to be any easier.

My thinking time is over when the bear swats claws at me. I sidestep, bringing my sword round to smack it in the side, and it responds by snapping its neck sideways, jaws closing on my side. Even with all the fluff and clothing there, the bear gets its teeth all the way to my flesh. With a gasp of pain, I hurry and turn, stabbing the sword into its neck. This only succeeds in making the bear pull away, ripping its bite out with it.

Doing my best not to double over, I draw back shakily, putting a handful of snow on the wound as the bear closes the gap. The cold might help medically, but it hurts so much I let go. It's not like the bear's going to stand by quietly as I lick my wounds, anyway.

Swallowing down the pain, I adjust my grip on my sword as the bear swings out a paw. I partially block, a bit of the blade driving into its foot before it pulls away. The damage isn't enough to hamper its ability to stand, so the bear can still lunge with its jaws ready to close on me again. I duck away, but the motion sends an overwhelming throb of pain through my side, and before I know what I'm doing, I've fallen on the ground. The bear slams a foot down on my leg to keep me there and manages to crush it in the process.

With a sharp cry of pain, I twist myself to face the mutt, my sword bared. The bear lowers its head, scrutinising me carefully, though it still shows its teeth in an expression of rage. Arm trembling, I ready my sword for a last desperate jab. If it hurts enough, maybe the bear will at least get off me. I can't say I think I'll be able to walk too well after this, but crippled is better than eaten.

Just as I ready myself to place my strike, a slash from nowhere sends the mutt nearly screeching in pain. Blood streaming down its nose, it takes a shaky step back. Breathless, I hurry to my feet—foot—and jam the sword into and past the bear's eye. Its jaw drops open as if to bellow in pain, but it makes no sound.

The dead mutt and I drop to the ground at about the same time. Thankfully it doesn't fall on my leg again, because I don't think I could really pull it out of the way in time. Whatever adrenaline I did manage to rustle up in the fight is fading away, and it's not nice.

Footsteps quietly crunch in the snow, and the tribute girl who slashed at the bear's nose comes to stand in front of me nervously.

"Are you okay?" she starts, as out of breath as me.

With a grunt, I push myself up some, cringing as another flash of pain goes through my side. My only answer is turning my head to look at the wound. It really doesn't look that deep, but it's still bleeding and sending out pain signals like no tomorrow.

The girl cringes herself, kneeling next to me. "You don't have any bandages, do you? I could help-help wrap it or something."

Inhaling, I shake my head and look down at my leg, trying to move it. It's impossible to do without grunting a muffled sound of pain. One of the shin bones has to be broken, if not both.

"I-I'm sorry," the tribute murmurs, looking about to cry. "I-I can make a splint. I don't know how it's going to work with ice branches, but..."

"Go ahead and get started," I finally grunt, starting to peel threads and jacket fluff out of the hole in my side. "I'll take care of this in the meantime."

Startled by my speaking, she just stands there for a moment before nodding so rapidly her glasses almost fall off. She opens her mouth but hurries off to the nearest unbroken tree before she can say anything.

Carefully peeling off my shirt round the wound, I watch her. I don't remember her name, district, score, or anything. She must be fairly insignificant. But she's alive and either convinced she owes me or really doesn't like the thought of hurt people. I didn't want to bother with alliances, but I can't run and probably can't stand. I hope she's going to be tolerable, because she doesn't seem like much of a threat to me, and I'll need someone about.

"What was your name?" I say, tearing at the bottom of my undershirt for makeshift bandages. Hopefully I'll have real ones donated. Maybe not if I don't kill her, though that's really not advantageous at this point.

She doesn't respond immediately because she's snapping off an ice branch, but she then turns this way and says, "Nada."

"Hm." I stretch the fabric a bit much so enough pressure will be over the wound and start wrapping.

So, looks like Nada's my ally. Here's hoping she can do something other than run and knife a bear's nose.

She'll have to be more of a fighter than that if she's going to keep the both of us alive.


	41. Restless

Recommended Listening: Things Can Only Get Better by Howard Jones

* * *

**Egypt Hassan, District 12**

"You're too paranoid about this," Turk calls as I clear out another section of floor to check for traps. "We already had to fall into a crevasse—" a loud smack as he chews on an apple—"and find and crawl through a tunnel to get here. I think we earned it."

Ignoring him, I carefully sweep my hands over the sand at the bottom of the cave to find there's still nothing there. I set the canteens, pack of throwing knives, rattling pill bottles, and sacks of charcoal back where they were and move on to another section of the place.

There's a ridiculous amount of stuff to go through. And that's why I have to go through it. I don't care what we had to go through to get here—piles and piles of supplies can't be in this place without being rigged or part of a bloodbath. And since we're the only ones here and get along well enough not to kill each other, the place has to be trapped.

Scooting a heavy crate out of the way, I look up at the sky. Well, I can't quite see sky from here, but there are quite a few long cracks along the ceiling letting in light. They're probably big enough for someone else to fall in through, though I can't imagine they could do so without landing on something sharp.

Hoping I would see the glint of any trip wires—there's sunlight, but the cave is so big it's fairly dim—I move over a few other bags of things and check the ground. Just snow and ice. Nothing to arouse more suspicion.

"Hey, Egypt!"

I pause to look over in Romania's direction. Her hands are inside a cardboard box, various pieces of clothing cast out and hanging on its sides.

"Want a funny hat?" she calls, waving something white in the air. Either assuming I'm not going to say anything or not caring what my answer is, she flings the thing over at me.

Dropping the board in my hands, I reflexively catch the thing and look it over. It just looks like a big rag with a limp, cloth embroidery hoop sewn to it.

"Is too a hat," Romania says, reading my face. "Anything's a hat if you put it on your head." With that she turns back to her box, likely looking for something more suitable to her tastes.

I consider throwing the cloth-hat-thing back at her, but it at least seems to be wool, and my ears are freezing. Once I'm sure she's not looking, I go ahead and put the thing on, adjusting the cloth hoop to keep it secured. It's still cold to the touch, but it covers my ears and neck, and it's worth a shot.

Romania finally catches me wearing it and laughs, but I ignore her and go on to check out the next section of cave.

**Ermine Lutz, District 10**

We're resting by one of the big crevasses. I was right in thinking the Capitol would send something at us. Under any other conditions, I would have just stayed and fought—the pair of foxes was fairly large, but not all that threatening—but we ran. Ran until one of the mutts got a bite out of Riben. I don't know if we had made it as far as the Capitol wanted, but I went ahead and killed the two of them after that.

Now Italo's dozing by the fire, Riben on his own sleeping bag just past my district partner's feet. His lower leg and heel are bandaged up tightly now and wrapped in a blanket since his shoe and a lot of sock and trouser are gone. I'm not sure if he'll be able to walk again, but he definitely can't run, and he couldn't go any further, so here's where we stopped.

_it's your fault he's hurt it's your fault he'll die_

Taking a deep breath, I start to spin my watch round my wrist.

_he'll get infection you know and there's nothing you can do about it your stubbornness did this to him and now he's going to die_

I did what I had to. If I just ignored what the Capitol wanted, they would have done something worse. This way, he at least has a chance of surviving.

_you want him dead anyway for you to live but what does it matter you're already a murderer you're going to kill both of them anyway kill them and watch them die and not even care because you're just a murderer murderer murderer_

I give up. Somewhere in my mind I realise I'm the only one watching for enemies, but I need to dump out some supplies right now and get sorting.

_what do you care murderer haven't you already known this haven't you already imagined them dying seen the blood heard their screams _

Unzipping my backpack so hard the zipper nearly rips off, I dump out the contents and start sorting through them.

_you don't care you're just a murderer you've always been a murderer why do you think you've always been so obsessed with everyone dying you want them to die don't you_

Even when I've smoothed out a good patch of snow for a surface, I keep thinking it's not quite square and just end up making it worse every time I expand an edge. Eventually I abandon it and try for a smooth oval, which comes much easier. Next are the supplies.

"Ermine?"

Hand about to cramp from gripping so hard, I look up at Italo, who's sitting up.

_awake for now he'll die soon enough you'll kill him soon enough_

I don't hear what he says next because I'm concentrating too hard on the sorting. This stupid peach is too asymmetrical. I throw it to the side and grab a can instead for the centre, placing it upright in the snow with its label facing me.

_he's probably dying already look up at him he's bleeding look up at him he's dying and it's because of you you know it is you murderer_

"Ermine, Ermine, Er—" he nudges my shoulder, and I reflexively snap my arm that way, slamming his hand away.

"_What_?" I finally shout, looking up after some hesitation.

Lower lip quivering, Italo holds his arm to him.

_look he's scared of course he's scared he knows you'll kill him you already hurt him_

"I-I," he stammers, "wanted to know i-if we were going to eat the foxes—"

_see how he's hurt you probably tore something he's probably bleeding inside and he'll finally die and you know it's your fault_

"—because I haven't got to really cook anything since we got out here, a-and I thought it would be fun to cook something..."

I think he trails off there, but I'm hardly paying attention. Those bags of mix are not in a straight line. They have to be in a straight line. They have to be.

_why are you so anxious you already knew he would die you already wanted him to die_

"Please don't hate me. I-I just—"

"I don't hate you, now just _shut up_!" I scream, refusing to look back at him as I smooth out the snow round the mix bags. It's difficult when my hands are shaking so much, but I manage. Next comes the orange juice, and I can't figure out what to do with it until I decide to move the fruit cocktail can and set the two across a central axis from each other.

Some minutes later, the thoughts have finally stopped, and I carefully look back at Italo. He's curled up on top of his sleeping back, still pressing his right arm against his chest. Maybe I really did do some damage—b-but that's not my concern right now.

"Italo," I start, inhaling. "Sorry about that. What were you asking?"

He looks up at me, not sure at first whether to say anything. "I-If I could cook the foxes?"

I nod. "Yeah, that'll be fine. Wouldn't hurt to have a little meat."

Leaving my ordered creation as-is, I get up. A quick glance at Riben proves he's still asleep, as he should be.

"I'll skin them for you," I say, going over to the mounds of white fur.

After a second, Italo pipes, "Thank you!"

"Don't mention it," I say tiredly.

**Cisca Lemieux, District 1**

It's nearing dinnertime, and there still haven't been any cannons. Granted, what's left of the Career group hasn't been doing much but keeping warm and making out, but we can wait for nightfall.

Or, Amantius can wait. I still doubt I'm going to do much in the way of killing. Making violent people upset with each other—fine. Running someone through with a dagger—not so much.

It's fine, though. Amantius is plenty strong for the two of us. And I'm not that worried about when we run into Ermine, if some mutt doesn't kill her first. She's been up against five Careers and who knows what else, and Amantius hasn't. Even if she could have been stronger to begin with, she's going to be a lot more worn down.

As for what happens to Amantius, I don't know. He still seems all right with me—or at least my looks—so I'm not too worried just yet. He was supposed to go down with the rest of the Careers, but I underestimated just how mad Rica was because I thought she wasn't all _that_ angry when she hadn't gone quiet, and...

Well, no one's perfect. I'm sure I'll figure something else out.


	42. Allies

A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone!

Recommended Listening: Bargain by The Who

* * *

**Nada Ott, District 11**

The anthem plays, but there are no faces tonight. Mama Bear probably entertained the Capitol enough so no one had to go out and kill. And even the Capitol people have to sleep sometimes, right? So maybe things will go all right tonight, too.

Shivering, I watch the Capitol seal fade away.

I really shouldn't bet on that sort of thing. Careers will go after tributes whether the Capitol forces them to or not. And the Careers left must still hate me for getting away, and they have such terrible plans for taking their anger out...

"Nada?"

Trying not to jump, I turn towards Holland. She's still covered up in her sleeping bag, though she obviously hasn't fallen asleep yet.

"Yeah?" I start, rubbing at my face to warm it up.

"Just making sure you didn't see something," she says, rolling onto her back again. "You seemed kind of freaked-out."

"Oh. No, I didn't see anything. Sorry." With a sigh, I turn back round. "Just... worrying about the Careers."

"All two of them?"

I shift my shoulders. "Yes... Or at least the guy."

"All one of them, then." She shuffles further into the bag. "I'd be more worried about the tribute right next to you."

I wrap my arms round my shins. "I-I guess... We did get disinfectant, though, so it shouldn't end up too bad, right? Your leg, though..."

She looks over at me for a second, eyebrows raised, and rolls back over.

Air clouds in front of me as I sigh. "So if I'm worried about you, it'd be because of them. I'm plenty scared for myself, though."

I can't tell whether I shudder from cold or dread. "There may not be a lot of Careers left, but there's still the one who planned to c-cut off my limbs and crush in my ribs... The original Career that wanted to do that with him is gone, but it's still-still a terrible way to die."

I bury my face in my knees, trying to calm down, as the sleeping bag rustles behind me.

"Well, if that's all you're scared of..." Holland waits until I turn my head. "...I can kill you myself. Do it quickly."

I get the impulse to scoot away, but I just freeze up.

"Your choice, though," she says, closing her eyes. "I'd rather keep you here for a while."

"O-okay," I get out.

**Italo Veneziano, District 10**

Yawning, I glance at the sun to try to keep my eyes open. All it does is hurt and make me keep them closed for a while.

Why do I even have to keep watch? Nobody ever comes at night. They're doing things like sleeping. I want to sleep, too. I guess I did kind of sleep all day, but still.

But Ermine told me I have to stay awake half the night because Riben's not taking watch. I guess I'll go ahead and do what she says. Might as well every once in a while, just to keep things fun.

But watch isn't very fun, and still nobody's coming. I can't start cooking the meat we have because I haven't figured out what all I'm going to do with it yet, so I haven't asked for ingredients. And I'd want to eat it right away, but I'm not hungry right now because I went ahead and ate an apple.

So, no cooking. I don't have anything to draw with, so I can't do that, either. And I still can't sleep, especially since it's so cold outside of my sleeping bag.

Heaving a sigh, I just sit here bored for a minute, wishing I had something to play with. Then I look to make sure Ermine's not awake and shuffle through my pockets. I'm not sure just where I put it, but—oh!

I pull out the pretty little vial I found at the supply pile. I haven't looked inside yet, so there's something I can do.

Unscrewing the black lid, I tilt the dark glass towards the sun to get a better look. It's mostly clear, but it has a little bit of a yellow-orange tint to it. It's really not that pretty. It doesn't smell all that good, either, so I put the lid back on and roll the vial between my hands.

Then I catch a letter on the side and start spinning it just fast enough I can read it. Poison. Is that what that says? Wonder what it does.

I keep rolling the vial between my palms.

I guess there's one good way to find out. I think I'll give it to Ermine, since she's tougher than me so it won't really hurt her. Or maybe it will, and she'll be mad at me. Oh, well. I really wanna see what happens.

But she probably won't drink it if I ask, and I bet she'll just take it away from me. So I'll sneak it into her food instead.

Okay! Sounds like fun.

**Amantius Redulite, District 2**

"Still handling everything okay?" I call as we walk onward.

"Yeah," Cisca replies, shouldering her load.

" 'Kay. Tell me if you see anyone."

I keep walking, keeping an eye out, though it wouldn't be hard to catch someone out here. Hopefully we'll find something soon. Maybe the Capitol could chase them towards us. Maybe they'll even give us the girl that drowned us out. That'd be nice. Avenge after all that humiliation. And for my sister, I guess.

Though it's not like I wasn't already expecting her to die. I've known it would happen since the day she signed up to be a Career. Plenty of time to get ready for it. Sure, I didn't expect to be in the same Games, but I still didn't even have to watch her go. And I didn't even have to kill her myself. Not much to be depressed about.

Well, as far as that goes. Having all of two kills to my name, one of which really doesn't even count, isn't nice. But that I can fix, if we make decent ground and the rest of the tributes aren't hiding in a crack in the ice somewhere.

How have those guys not died yet? Guess it's not all that cold. We'll probably have to wait until they starve or something. Hm. Wonder if they'll try to eat each other first.

Taking a second to make sure Cisca doesn't fall down another one of those crevasses, I keep moving forwards.

**Turk Adnan, District 7**

Judging from a clock I found in the pile, morning's come without anyone else dying. I yawn, pouring in water for another cup of coffee—yes, there's even real coffee in all of this—and going round to kick the others awake. It's hard to get to Romania since she's curled up on a weird nest of clothes, but I finally manage to rouse her. I have to stumble over more junk to get to Egypt, but he startles awake pretty easily.

I don't feel like talking yet—I've been awake so long the first cups of coffee have worn off—so I just squat back over by the stove and wait for the future coffee to heat up.

"Morning, Turk," Romania calls, rubbing at her eyes.

I just grunt.

"Morning, Egypt," she tries.

He glances at her.

"You guys are no fun," she says with a pout, pushing herself to her feet.

I grunt again.

She starts to put some things together for breakfast. She'll probably have to come over to the standing fire pit here. I don't feel like moving, but I'm pretty hungry. I guess I can scoot over.

"Does it seem lighter in here to you?" she starts, going through a box of food as my stuff gets brewing.

Of course it seems lighter to me, since I've been up since before dawn, if we can call it that here. I go ahead and look up at the ceiling, though. The cracks do seem a little bigger.

"You think that's it?" Romania responds, following my gaze. "Makes sense. Probably so it's easier for somebody to fall in."

At that Egypt pauses a second and starts getting some weapons together. Meanwhile I wait a second for my coffee to cool down and then start sipping. Augh, how did I live without this these past days?

Egypt keeps at whatever he's doing, and after another minute I ask him what he's up to.

"If tributes start falling in," he says, carefully positioning an open box, "we might as well make sure they're injured."

I pour myself another cup, still looking over at him. "What an insult! You don't think I can handle them if they're not injured?"

He just rolls his eyes and keeps working.

"Stop that, will you?" I snap. "All that scraping over the ice is making my ears hurt."

"Well, you yelling is making _my_ ears hurt," Romania says. "Let's just go ahead and have our breakfast, in peace, please."

She sets a plate of bacon and dry cereal in front of me and hollers for Egypt to join us.


	43. Just Like That

A/N: Sorry for the slow updates. I keep getting distracted by another story idea (and not even the part of it I've gotten to writing...). I shall try to be more disciplined. *salutes*

Recommended Listening: Sign of the Gypsy Queen by April Wine

* * *

**Riben Wang, District 6**

Ermine and I casually keep watch as Italo, humming, flips meat over the fire. It smells wonderful, especially when I ended up sleeping through breakfast. I still feel like I need to make up for that somehow, but Ermine doesn't mind.

After all, in my condition I can't be expected to do much, it seems. I haven't tried standing yet—just shifting my legs feels like the fox is jabbing its teeth into me again—but I doubt I'm capable. I'm still light-headed and tired, and I can't promise that if I tried to walk, I wouldn't just stumble into the crevasse beside us. I just hope I'll be well enough to keep a watch tonight. I'm already enough of a burden without this.

Without any of this. I can't even feel insulted that Dad pretends I don't exist. Maybe it's different at the moment, when I'm out in the arena instead of huddled in my room. I'm still just relying on others, though. Maybe Italo's making my food instead of Mom, and Ermine's protecting me instead of Mom, but it's not that different.

But I did nothing about it at home, and I can do nothing here. I'll just follow instructions and try to keep from upsetting anyone.

Italo continues to shuffle the pieces of meat round the pan, the herby smell getting stronger. It seems we had more than sufficient funds to get ingredients and the pan. Ermine has certainly earned it. Our mentors must have held out the funds for something we really needed, then realised we already had just about everything.

Pan still hissing smoke, Italo checks the contents one more time and announces, "This one's ready!"

He shuffles the chunk of meat onto a paper plate. "It's the smallest one," he says, handing the meal to me, "so you can have it."

I take it with a nod of thanks and wait for him to prepare his and Ermine's.

He chooses the biggest hunk of meat for the second one—if it wasn't for me getting the first piece, I wouldn't be surprised he sets it aside for himself. Then he throws Ermine's on, and I find my gaze continually dragging to my plate. The meat has cooled down enough I can't warm my face over it, but the smell hasn't weakened.

"You can go ahead and eat it."

Cringing, I look up at Ermine, who seems amused.

"No reason to let it get colder," she continues. "I won't be offended."

I nod, swallowing, and pick up the meat with my hands. The lack of silverware certainly doesn't help the feeling of improperness.

"I wasn't talking to you!" Ermine says, and I jump, looking up at her. Her gaze is locked on Italo, who set the pan on the ground so he could get hold of his own piece.

"Finish cooking mine first," she continues before looking over at me. "Riben, you can go ahead and eat. Sorry."

I just nod and bring the meat to my mouth as Italo pours something over Ermine's piece and puts it over the fire. Satisfied I'm going to eat, Ermine turns to make sure Italo finishes cooking her meal before I take the first bite. The meat is difficult to gnaw through, but Italo certainly knows what he's doing. I may not be as interested in cooking as I once was—I couldn't handle straying to the kitchen where I always helped my sister prepare meals—but I'm a bit jealous. This can really compare to Capitol food.

I've managed to chew about a third of the way through my piece when Italo finishes Ermine's, and the two of them start eating. Neither of them seems as impressed, but I suppose they must be used to it. No wonder Ermine can tolerate him, if he normally does the cooking. Though it's probably an exaggeration to say she's so swayed by food alone.

Their relationship just seems sort of odd to me. All Ermine does here is snap at him, but the way she talks about the things he's done before, she must like him somewhat.

Her "never give up—even if you don't know what you're fighting for" philosophy is from all the houses he went to before the Lutzes let him work for them. Even if he usually gives up on everything else, he'd been through enough trouble after his grandfather kicked him out that his case was inspiring.

Even when she talks about what a nuisance he always is—eating things meant for customers, falling asleep in the middle of repairing her only coat, hitting on a Peacekeeper's daughter—she'll shake her head and smile. At least, when he's asleep. She doesn't do much smiling when he's awake. Although then he's usually trying to swipe food or make surrender flags.

I spare a glance at her—rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand and wincing—and turn back to what Italo made for me.

**Romania Viorel, District 6**

We have our lunch of various squishy, canned things and sit back to relax.

At least, Turk and I do. The cracks above have widened enough that Egypt has to again make sure no one could fall through one with thumping onto something painful.

But has anyone fallen through yet? No. Is there a big group like the Careers that could take us by storm even after falling all the way to the ground here? No. Forget the "T"—brand this guy "p" for "paranoid."

Now I'm not saying we should just completely relax, because we really shouldn't. I'm sure someone's going to come charging through into our icy little home and try to stab us. We should be ready for that. We just don't need to, you know, go over every inch of the house-sized cave for traps and set up our own traps when there aren't any.

Turk has also given up on trying to talk sense into him. He'd probably have better luck using his fists, anyway.

"Say, Turk," I start, watching Egypt's silly hat flap round his ears as he works. "What exactly were you going to do to see if Egypt was worthy to be an ally instead of property?"

He adjusts the grey hood he put on yesterday. "Fight him," he says. I mouth along in perfect synchronisation.

"Well," I say, leaning back against an empty crate, "I'm bored. Go fight for my amusement."

Turk crosses his arms. "Now, why would I do that?"

I shrug. " 'Cause if you're gentleman enough to let me hit you first, you ought to be gentleman enough to hit somebody else for me."

"Don't you dare call me any word with 'gentle' in it," he responds, jabbing a finger in my face. I open my mouth and snap my teeth a centimetre away from his glove, and he pulls away.

"What other word has 'gentle' in it?" I start, looking up at the cloudy sky.

Turk pauses, trying to fire some neurons in that overly-concussed brain of his.

Wondering myself, I kind of zone out until something makes a loud cracking sound. I check Turk, but I doubt he would have socked Egypt one without talking a lot about his challenge first. He's still right beside me.

A giant chunk of ice from the ceiling is what's moving.

I get to my feet, but before I can take a step, the piece of glacier drops.

Right on top of Egypt.

Turk runs over faster than me. The ice didn't hit Egypt's head, but his midsection is underneath, some blood seeping into his jacket. Too shocked to do much thinking, the Seven and I just heave to roll the thing off of him.

**Holland Mogens, District 7**

A cannon fires.

I look at Nada briefly to make sure she didn't have a heart attack or something and then turn my injured side back towards the fire. She keeps looking at the sky.

"Wonder who that was," she says quietly, though she hasn't spoken louder than this yet.

"Not me, and not you," I respond, turning to warm up my face.

"Yeah..."

She doesn't stop watching until the hovercraft disappears again. Then she joins me over the fire.

Without moving my head, I look up at her. "I hope you're not planning to win this thing with that attitude."

"What attitude?" She lowers her gaze. "Thinking that the others are human beings, too?"

"More or less." I pull back for a second, watching her. She doesn't look up. "I know they're human. I just also keep in mind they have to die for me to live. Just like you. I'm still injured, so I want you here to defend me, but if we're the final two, I'm still going to knife you."

Fingertips trembling, she has yet to look up.

"What?" I respond. "Did you think we were suddenly besties because I liked your hair or something?"

She shakes her head slowly, a cloud of breath blurring her mouth. She looks ready to cry.

I heave a sigh. "Fine. Kill me for being honest." I lean towards the fire again. "Or don't, actually."

"I won't," she mumbles.


	44. Mistake

Recommended Listening: Turn to Stone by Electric Light Orchestra

* * *

**Italo Veneziano, District 10**

I squat over Ermine, nudging her shoulder. She doesn't respond.

So is this really all that poison does? It's already nighttime, and nothing's happened to her except a headache, and I give her those a lot, anyway, so I don't even know if that's from the stuff. She looks dead to the world now, but she's always been a heavy sleeper, and she's still breathing.

This isn't even a little interesting. I don't know what that poison's supposed to do to her, but I don't think it worked.

She's just tougher than I thought, I guess. I even poured in the whole vial, though...

The flask is back in my pocket, so I shouldn't get caught at least, but you never know. But Ermine knows how much of a numbskull I am. Even if something happens to her, she'll just punch me a little and yell at me and move on. I don't think she's going to get sick, though.

Oh, well. Maybe something fun will happen, anyway. Probably not while I'm on watch since nothing ever happens while I'm on watch. Maybe I should just go to sleep.

I shake Ermine again, and she shifts, but she doesn't open her eyes. Hum. Maybe the poison makes her more tired. That's still boring, though.

With a sigh that fogs up my vision, I go sit on a crate and keep an eye out.

**Cisca Lemieux, District 1**

We may not have found anyone last night, but someone's in the distance now. Amantius and I approach quietly, and I don't think we've been seen yet.

Just as I'm ready to let Amantius take the lead, I realise who the tribute ahead is. Italo.

Now that's just fine with me—he's hardly a threat—but I know he was with Ermine last time, and she's probably the only one that could force him to stay awake for a night watch.

Honestly, though, that's fine, too. We might as well run into Ermine while Amantius hasn't had to fight any others—and while she's asleep, no less! Italo could wake her up, though, so there's no need to abandon caution.

I nudge Amantius.

"What?"

"Hang back for a minute, all right?" I start, watching Italo twirl some hair round his fingers. "He probably won't alert Ermine if it's me—he sure liked me back in the Training Centre, too." I run a hand through my hair. "I'll keep him distracted, and you can go in for Ermine. He and the little guy won't be much trouble even if they wake up afterwards, don't you think?"

"Yup," he says, going ahead and sliding his sword out now.

"Don't start this way until I have his eyes on me," I finish, making sure my dagger's out of sight and walking ahead.

There's still a good bit of snow between Italo and me, but my shadow's long in the twilight, and I've only made it halfway to him before he stands up. Not exactly wanting to holler his name when Ermine's right there with him, I just wave an arm and pick up the pace. He doesn't draw any closer, but he doesn't retreat or try to wake Ermine. Mission accomplished, so far.

I lower my arm, dashing over the rest of the distance and slowing a few metres away from him. I stand here panting for a moment as he looks over me curiously.

"Hi," he chirps. "I don't remember your name, but I remember you're pretty."

He was a bit better at this outside of the battlefield, but he's cute enough I can easily smile at that. "My name's Cisca, actually," I say, fighting the urge to see if Amantius has started over. "And you're... Italo, right?"

"Yup!" Eyes closed, he beams at me. "Most girls I hit on don't remember." He pauses, looking at my shoes. "Most girls I hit on usually hit me, actually."

I laugh, tilting his chin up to look him in the eye. "Well, I'm not going to hit you."

"Yay!"

Letting go, I laugh again. "So, how have you been doing out here?"

"Good! Some people and mutts have attacked, but Ermine can take care of anything. Most of the time, I just get to sleep by the fire." He holds his arms out and sways from side to side. "It's really nice."

"Must be," I say. She even took out mutts after driving off the Career pack? Gosh—but no. That just means she's more worn down.

I feel like glancing back at her would be natural in this conversation, but I don't. Amantius has to be coming slowly, but I don't know how close he is. Until there's a cannon, I'm not taking any chances.

"As for me," I continue, "I've just been roughing it. I tried hiding with the Careers, but I was too weak—they kicked me out." I bite my lip and look down, a hint of tears in my eyes. "It's—it's awfully lonely, but okay."

"But you're too pretty to be lonely," he responds, looking about ready to cry himself.

"Thanks," I say with a sniffle. After a second—still with no cannon, though Amantius _was_ a distance away—I perk up and shake Italo's shoulder a bit.

"You—you don't think," I start, "you'd want to come with me, do you? I know Ermine is mean to you, but it'll be fun if we're together." I start to tug him towards me. "And I won't have to be so lonely then."

He takes a few steps with me, thinking. "I don't know—I'd have to ask Ermine."

"No!" Though I keep calmly tugging him, my heart rate spikes. He is _not_ waking that monster up, not when I'm so close to getting rid of her. "She'd never let you go, would she?"

"Probably not." He puts a finger to his chin. "Actually, I'm supposed to wake her up when I see someone else, and I guess you're someone else."

"N-no," I say, unable to keep myself from looking back at the hulking figure in the sleeping bag. Amantius is barely at the edge of my vision—not close enough.

And then stupid little Italo draws in a breath and hollers, "Ermi—"

That's as far as he gets before my dagger slashes across his throat. Blood soaking through to my hand, I pull back, unable to make heads or tails of this. Italo staggers and looks at me—but without fear, without tears. Only confusion.

And then he falls down dead.

Did I just kill him? Did I just—what—what...

My hand seems frozen, but I still fling the dagger to the ground as I back away gasping. What just—what just—I just killed an innocent person. I just killed someone. Just because I didn't want him to wake—

Wait—only one cannon has fired.

I whip round, nearly losing my footing. Amantius is rushing the last of the distance, but Ermine has cast off her cover and sits up slowly. She sees me first, then Italo on the ground behind me. The hovercraft claw comes down over him, and her eyebrows lower.

"You killed him," she says, voice so low I can barely hear it.

"N-no! I-I didn't!" I shriek.

Unable to breathe, I run to put Amantius between her and me. He'll take care of this. She's injured and unarmed and still half-asleep, and he has his sword ready. There's no way she can get past him to me. No way.

Amantius bridges the last of the gap and brings his sword to her side with a grunt. She seizes his wrist just as the blade penetrates her coat, sending feathers flying, and thrusts his hand to the ground, something cracking. Amantius still doesn't lose his grip and struggles to pull his arm back, and she releases him suddenly. Staggering to the side, he switches the sword between hands at the same time Ermine seizes his foot and rams her shoulder into his knee. Something else cracks, and Amantius goes to the ground with a yell.

I don't realise he dropped his sword until Ermine plunges it through his chest.

As the cannon fires, she draws the bloody blade out of him, her gaze able to bear down on me now that he's out of the way.

W-well! There goes my defence!

I should probably run now. I should really run now.

I turn and bolt.


	45. Dead Dead Dead

A/N: Warning! This chapter contains violence.

Recommended Listening: H*ll's Bells by AC/DC

* * *

**Ermine Lutz, District 10**

It's almost sad how she's not one bit faster than me.

I just woke up and my head's back to pounding like mad, but she still only gets two steps away before I grab her coat. I snap my arm back, and her limbs go flailing in front of her like a worn doll's before I throw her to the ground. Breathing in quick, whistling gasps, she scrambles to get back to her feet, but I slam my foot down on her abdomen.

She's not getting away. The girl with Italo's blood smeared over her stabbing hand is not leaving this alive.

She struggles beneath me, and I lift my foot just long enough to slam it into her jaw before pinning her again. She gets in enough air to cough, spitting out blood and, to her clear horror, a tooth.

Hm. You murder a human being, and your first concern is your appearance. How low can you get?

But you know what? You ripped something precious away from me. The least I can do is return the favour.

I lean over her, and she stops her weak squirming to stare up at me frozenly.

"You're awfully fond of your hair, aren't you?" I start, tensing my grip on Amantius's sword.

She just keeps her wide eyes on me, not moving or breathing.

She's not quite so still when I start dragging the blade across her hairline. With a pathetic shout of pain, she starts squirming again—I just plant my foot on her harder and keep cutting, ear to ear. Sniffling, she shudders, like that was the worst of it.

Then I wrap a hand in her hair and jerk.

As the skin starts tearing past the point I cut it, she shrieks and thrashes, which only makes it worse. Her fingers close round my ankle, and she tries to shove it away with her thin arms but has no success. I just keep pulling, teeth clenched, as blood runs all over her hair in a clumping mess.

_why punish her he's dead because of you_

Breathing harder, I keep jerking the scalp back and forth.

_it's your fault all yours he tried to wake you but you wouldn't get up_

I let go of her barely-attached scalp, leaving her screaming and writhing, but the supplies are too far away, and she might live if I just leave her here.

_now it's finally happened he died in a pool of blood just like you always knew he would just like you always saw him die because you weren't there to defend him_

I snatch one of her flailing hands, ripping off the glove stained with Italo's blood and using the sword tip to pry away fingernails. One, two, three, four, five—I secure her other hand—six, seven...

_does this make it better you're the only murderer here _

Ten. But the bloody indents on her fingers aren't at all the same, so I start cutting off the tips altogether at the first joint. One, two, three, four...

_all those years watching him die all those years trying to prepare him and he still gets killed because of you you worthless murderer_

Nine, ten.

_if you just took watch yourself this never would have happened you know he's not observant enough or wasn't observant enough now he's a bloody corpse_

Second joint—one, two, three, four, five, six...

_all that blood all that pain he had to go through because of you and you thought you were prepared and you thought you could stop it_

I get to ten, but that leaves no thumbs, so I have to lop off the rest of the others off to even it out.

___your precious little Italo is dead because of your stupidity you thought you could save him from what you saw but all you are is a selfish little coward murderer_

There's nothing left to do with what's left of her hands, and I panic before seeing that one tooth outside of her screaming mouth. There's plenty there to knock out and organise.

___and he's dead dead dead_

I try to keep ramming my fist into her mouth at a regular beat, but she won't stay still. She's bawling, but she can see me coming to dodge—so I stab out her eyes and get back to punching.

___dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead_

They keep falling out like broken bits of dishes, but I haven't gotten all of them. Some of this might just be part of her crumpled-in jaw, but there still aren't thirty-two. I need all of them before I can start sorting them. All of them.

My pulled-back arm suddenly meets some little bit of resistance, but I shake it off and land another blow.

"Ermine!"

Something wraps round my elbow again, and I turn my head, ready to take care of whatever's trying to interrupt me.

Riben, wobbling to stand on his one good leg, has his arms thrown round my elbow. His face is gleaming with tears, and his mouth is open to call my name again, but all he can get out is a choking sound.

My first thought is that he must be hurt and is probably about to die, too, but he stares down in front of me rather than at my face. I follow his gaze and actually see what I've been staring at.

The mutilated mess isn't recognisable as Cisca's face. Blood-matted hair trying to hide behind a jagged circle of scalp. Eyes and eyelids mixed in unseeing shreds. Warped cheekbones over convolutions of bone and muscle that still erupt in screams. Though I don't look over at her lack of fingers, they wouldn't make the scene much prettier.

I let Riben pull my hand further away and start to guide me to my feet. The panic and rage slowly decays until I'm just looking down on her blankly. I still feel like she deserves this somehow.

I stomp her ribs into her heart for Riben's sake.

**Turk Adnan, District 7**

The third cannon of the night fires. Fourth of the day, though Egypt's already had his time in the sky.

I'm not sure how late it is right now. Romania and I are both still awake. Who knows if another chunk of ice'll fall down? Though it's probably more because we just don't feel like sleeping.

I offer Romania another cup of coffee.

"No, thanks." She sticks her tongue out in disgust. "It's way too strong."

I grunt in response, keeping the coffee pot over the fire. We jut sit in silence for a while, the rumbling clouds overhead don't lighten the mood at all.

"You don't have to be _this_ grumpy about it," she says after a minute.

"What?" I turn to her, lowering my eyebrows. "Egypt just died! Am I supposed to be skipping and throwing flowers?"

"Well, no…" Romania sighs, leaning closer to the fire. "I just hate being depresssed, and you being depressed makes me more depressed."

"Sorry for mourning," I mutter. "It's only the second friend of mine that died out here."

"Hey, I lost an ally before, too." She crosses her arms in front of her.

Another patch of silence interrupted only by me slurping my drink. It's starting to get cold, so I hold it over the fire between drinks.

"You wanna fight?" she starts suddenly.

"What?"

"You know… Fight." She puts up her fists and moves them in little circles.

I watch her for a second and start to push myself up but fall back on my rear.

"I don't feel up to it," I say, taking another swig of good stuff.

Romania looks at me like I just confessed that I'm actually President Snow.

"Maybe in the morning," I finally sigh. "Or whenever I'm suitably awake."

Romania nods, rubbing her face to warm it. "I can do that."

I just grunt, looking into the fire. Nothing else to do. Thankfully, I guess, since I still feel empty and disjointed. Can't put up much of a fight like this.

I finish my cup of coffee and pour another.


	46. Crippled

Recommended Listening: Enjoy the Silence by Depeche Mode

* * *

**Nada Ott, District 11**

More cannons fired last night, but Holland still doesn't seem to have stabbed me in the back. I guess she doesn't plan to do that until we're the final two.

Well, let her. I can't hold her to my standards. I can just do what I think is right and leave everyone else to their business.

And try to ignore how that's inevitably going to get me killed.

I crouch over the fire for a minute, wishing we had food. Just the wood must have been expensive, though, so I'll be glad for what we do have... A lot of tributes have been dying lately, so maybe I won't have to worry about being hungry for long.

Still, if things are wrapping up, that just means I'll die sooner. I can't pretend. No one's going to protect me, and I can't kill anyone. I could just run off and hide and let the others kill each other—I'm sure they'd forget all about me—but the Capitol wouldn't let me win if I don't kill anyone. Or if they do, they'll probably kill my friends and family. Maybe in front of me.

Shivering, I wave my hands over the fire though it doesn't help much in keeping them warm.

"Can you feel that?"

I look up to see Holland with her head turned over her shoulder. I can't tell if she's looking at the nearby crevasse or into the distance. I don't see anything but snow.

"Feel what?" I reply.

"That would be a 'no'," she says with a snort, looking back this way. "The ground's shaking again. Not much, but enough I can feel it."

"Oh." I put my hands to the ice beneath us and concentrate. I can sense a little bit of quivering, but I can't say for sure it's not just me shaking.

At least, not until the ground starts tumbling away.

I can't see the splitting beneath the snow before chunks of ice roll down into the crevasse from further and further away. Scrambling to my feet, I start to back up—the widening crack isn't more than a metre away now—before I notice Holland isn't running.

Of course she isn't. Her leg's still broken.

She rams her hands to the ground at an angle, rowing herself backwards, but her feet are already jutting over the crevasse.

Trying not to slip, I rush over, putting my arms under her shoulders and backpedalling. My shoes definitely have better traction than her gloves, but the chasm is moving faster than we are. Holland's shins are without ground now, feet dangling over the bottom I can't see. I pull harder, but soon her knees are over, too, and the ice is still falling from under us.

By the time her legs have nothing but freezing air below them, the ground's starting to go out from under my own feet. I run faster, but one foot pushes the ground hard enough it falls away. Losing my balance, I hit the ice, my arms slipping away from Holland. It doesn't matter—both of us go tumbling down now.

The walls aren't crumbling down so much now, but sliding down the ice isn't much less terrifying than just falling. It's still straight down.

It doesn't seem long enough before I crash into the bottom. My back and legs blossom in pain, but there are enough chunks of ice in piles that I go rolling down further, tearing clothing and scratching skin on the frozen edges. I finally slam into some far wall with a high-pitched splintering noise that feels like my shoulder breaking but sounds like it's only the ice.

I lie panting for a while before I'm able to sit up. I may not have so many ice blocks poking into me, but I'm still far from comfortable.

Holland seems to have made it down all right, too, though her arms are clamped round her injured leg.

So, we're injured, and I don't know what the Gamemakers are planning, but we're at least alive.

I wonder, for how long?

**Riben Wang, District 6**

Nothing seems right.

I feel healthy enough, but my leg and ankle still pound with pain. I'm exhausted, and I know it's not just because I woke up in the middle of the night.

Italo is dead. I didn't see it happen—I only woke up at that poor tribute screaming—but that seems to be the case, if Ermine is to be believed.

Ermine's case is the toughest to swallow. I can't begin to imagine how she could possibly do what she did, nor do I want to. If it was pure rage, though, it's gone now. She's just sitting on her sleeping bag, hunched over, sliding supplies back and forth across the snow. She didn't eat anything for breakfast, and I have a feeling she's not going to have lunch, either.

With how run-down she looks, I still feel like it's worth a try.

"Ermine?" I start quietly, scooting my sleeping bag a bit closer. "Do you want any lunch?"

"No." Her voice is still a lifeless monotone. "Here's the jerky, though." She tosses the bag over her shoulder, so weakly it barely clears her back, and continues pushing things about.

I crawl over the snow to get the bag and thank her.

"You know what's funny?" she says.

It looks like she's arranging the supplies even slower now.

"When he got reaped," she continues, not waiting for my response or looking back at me, "my first thought was over who'd stand up there with him. I just hoped it would be someone who would protect him. I wasn't that optimistic—just someone who could stand him would be rare enough. Being strong enough to see him to the end too would be a miracle. But you know what happened next."

She pauses, turning one can degree by degree. "And you know what just happened, too."

I nod, chewing on the jerky even though it seems tasteless to me now.

She moves on to a different section of supplies, uprooting them all and smoothing out the snow beneath. Somewhere in the midst of this, her breath catches in her throat and she curls up more, one hand gripping her head.

"Ermine?" I try, setting the jerky bag aside and scooting closer to her. She doesn't respond, but after a minute she at least lets go of her head and starts setting up the supplies again. With a soundless sigh, I put my legs back on my sleeping bag and take out a second piece of jerky.

She coils up a length of rope and places it carefully before wrapping her fingers round a water bottle. She looks over her creation for a minute before suddenly hurling the bottle in the middle of it, knocking everything askew, and getting to her feet.

"Screw it." Her voice isn't quite so eerily empty now.

She storms over to her sleeping bag and climbs inside.

"I give up. I'm going to sleep and not waking up. I feel like I'm going to die, anyway. No reason not to anymore." Gripping her head with one hand, she throws the cover over her and shuffles in enough I can only see a few knuckles sticking out from the fabric.

"E-Ermine!"

Still no response.

I sit for a minute, not sure what I'm supposed to do.

"If... If you don't mind me bringing it up," I finally start, looking away, "weren't you the one that said to never give up, even if you don't know what you're fighting for?"

She pulls down the covers just enough to expose her head to the open air, though from the immediate grimace I think she regrets it.

"Yes, I did." Her voice is dead again. "But don't you worry—I know what I've been fighting for." Her mouth warps into a grin that doesn't match the rest of her face.

"And he's dead now."

With that, she flings the covers back over her and says no more.

I think to coax her out, but there's nothing I can do. I certainly can't drag her out, and I don't know how to convince her she shouldn't do this. Didn't I just want to hide from the rest of the world when China died? I may not have been thinking about my own death at the time, but... I can understand why she would want that.

I-I don't want it, though. Italo's already gone. I've already lost one friend—can I call them that? I felt like we had become friends... And I don't want to lose another one. Strange as it sounds coming from me, I don't want to be alone. What am I supposed to do if she's gone, too?

A few hours later—she doesn't come out once, not even to organise the supplies—I'm forced to find out.


	47. Moment of Silence

Recommended Listening: Lay It Down by Journey

* * *

**Romania Viorel, District 6**

I'm still not sure what that clatter was by the time a cannon fires. Maybe they're connected, maybe they're not. If somebody fell over there and punctured something, they sure took a long time to die of it. So they're probably not the one that died.

Maybe. I guess anything could happen, though. They could have had their tongue stuck to the ice and just now ripped it off wrong and bled to death. Is that possible?

I briefly consider licking the handle of the sword I pulled out of our grand pile o' stuff but quickly decide against it.

Staring up at what ceiling remains, I lounge back under a patch of sky. Not much else to do. Already had lunch, and Turk is off dozing by the fireplace. There are a million pranks I could do while he's like that, but eh. Not today. I know I'll have to perk up eventually, but it can at least wait until tomorrow.

It sounds like we've had enough action today, anyway. The Capitol should let us rest.

Okay, there are a lot of things the Capitol _should_ do, but I think this is feasible for them. They have to sleep sometime, too, right?

Speaking of which, so do I. Once Turk gets up, I guess. We'll be sleeping some weird hours tonight. And/or today.

Until then, I lay here.

**Holland Mogens, District 7**

I guess it could have been worse. In other words, I'm still alive.

Still, my leg broke again in the fall—or, at least, the already-broken part split up again. It's not sticking out of the skin or anything. I haven't checked, but I'm pretty sure I would have felt that. Not that it's not hurting like crazy now.

At least it's somewhat re-placed now. There aren't any more branches to bother with a splint, but there's not much moving about down here, anyway. It's definitely big enough for the two of us to lie down without bumping up against each other, but I've found a comfortable area of fallen ice blocks, and if I move it'll be ruined.

There's not much reason to move, anyway. A ridiculously small packet of pain pills was sent down, but it landed on my stomach, anyway. There's no food to catch, and Nada hasn't been making any progress climbing. I doubt I could, anyway.

There is that weird spider-web crack in the wall, but she's scared to touch it. If one wall could crumble, so could the other, and we'd rather that not happen when we're in the line of fire.

So, we're stuck. I'm not sure what the Capitol is planning to do to us, but I'll keep my hand on my sword. For all I know, they've decided the two of us are useless—her for whimpering instead of killing, and me for my broken leg—in which case I'd better stay on my toes. Or maybe they decided it's time we fought someone, in which case I'd better stay on my toes.

Figuratively speaking.

**Riben Wang, District 6**

I sit here staring at the snow. There's a sharp gouge just in front of me where the hovercraft claw closed a while ago. Since Ermine never came out, they took the sleeping bag with her. Not that I need it.

Leaning forwards, I wave my hand in the hole. It's really there. Ermine's really gone. Just like that.

I don't understand. Even after her breakdown this morning, I can't understand how she's dead. Ermine. She was just... She's not the kind I can imagine dead. She's too much of a survivor.

But she's gone. The Capitol wouldn't take their strongest tribute away if she was still alive. Somehow, she really did die.

That's confusing, too. How did she die? Did she just... decide to? I may not have been able to see her through the bag, but I could see the outlines. She barely moved. She didn't strangle herself, or anything else. She just died. Could she die just because she had her heart set on it? I've heard of people dying of grief, but never anyone like her. Always older, frailer people.

But what else could have happened? Did happen? This did happen, right?

I pass my hand through the indent to make sure. Feeling a bit foolish, I let my arm drop back to my side.

I just don't... What else? What could have been wrong with her? Maybe an injury—but her battle with the Careers was so long ago, and she never got a scratch from the fox mutts.

She did eat them, though. I don't know how, but the Capitol can put poison into mutts. Tributes have died from it before, and it's the only other option I can think of.

She wasn't the only one who ate the fox, though. Italo died before it could get him, maybe, but there's still me. I did get the smallest piece, though, so maybe I didn't get enough food poisoning.

No—even if I just had a little, I would be suffering somehow. I'm still a bit faint, but that's just from the blood loss. Unless I'm immune somehow, there's no way that was poisoned.

Could I be immune? I think people can naturally be immune to virus bugs and such, but poison? I think you have to actually take poison to get immunity to it. I definitely haven't been taking any poison—where would I find it? I never left my room. I only ate what my mother brought in, and she wouldn't poison me.

She'd be extra careful not to. My sister already died from an accidental poisoning, so I don't think Mom would spare any effort in making sure everything she gave me was safe. Of course, things are a lot more dangerous in the Games than in District 6, but...

It is sort of odd how often I fell ill, but that couldn't have had anything to do with the food. Even if Mom wasn't so careful, she'd have to go out of her way to make me that sick. Maybe Dad would do that—maybe. He may have hated me, but I don't think he would have tried to kill me. I don't think he ever had a hand in the cooking, anyway. It was only ever things Mom would make.

So, no, I couldn't be immune unless Mom tried to make me, which is... crazy. Right? Right. Why would she try to do that to a little kid? She hardly had to worry about someone else trying to poison me when all I did was stay in my room. And she couldn't have possibly known I would be reaped, so no, no. That—that doesn't make any sense.

Unless she was just scared I would get reaped...

Just—no. It doesn't make sense. Nothing here makes sense.

I pass my hand through the dent in the snow again, though I'm not completely sure why. As if proving it's there is going to make all the bizarre things that have happened click into place. It just proves Ermine is gone. It doesn't prove that that makes any sense.

Just like the patches of blood prove that Italo and the other tribute died. Most of the red was taken up with them, too, but it still lingers there. I don't like the look of it. I don't like anything reminding me of what I saw.

I guess I could always pick up and move. Crawl, maybe, but I could just load up food and wood on the sleeping bag and drag them with me. Why not? I'll run into other tributes eventually. I don't want to die, but I'll have to.

I sit for a minute before loading things onto the back and moving it onward. I go ahead and crawl, but the snow's not terribly deep here so I'm not quite freezing from it.

With how wide open the arena is, it's a while before the dull ruby splotches are out of sight. I'm far from the first crevasse, but there are several others here, wider than I am tall and in jagged but parallel lines. The ground's a bit uneven, but there's a fairly flat spot near a crevasse I could lie down on.

I start to unload the supplies when I swear I hear someone talking. Setting down a bag of peaches, I get to my feet to look for the source.

I stand much too quickly. Cold dizziness crushes in on my head, and I don't even realise I'm falling until my foot hits an icy edge.

I'm only in the air for a paralysing moment before my chest slams into what feels like concrete blocks. My limbs hit other things, and I end up rolling off the pile as it falls apart from the impact.

Getting dizzy again, I try to figure out what just happened, but all I can do is cough and hack until I black out.


	48. Come Crumbling Down

Recommended Listening: Strung Out by Steve Perry

* * *

**Turk Adnan, District 7**

Romania's startled out of her turn sleeping when something crashes down from above. I'm fairly startled myself.

Once the various planks and boxes from one of Egypt's traps have stopped flying all over the place, we look for any cracks in the ice above and then close in carefully.

It wasn't an ice chunk that fell, anyway. The coughing pretty much proves it's a person. Just that little guy that fainted in interviews. Is he still in the Games? Huh.

Romania seems a lot more freaked out about this than me.

"Any particular reason," I start, "you're flailing your arms like that?"

She continues said flailing for a second before pointing pointedly at the fallen tribute.

"That's my district partner!" she splutters.

I look back at him. "Huh."

She squints at me before scurrying over the ice to her district partner. After affirming that she didn't somehow fail to hear a cannon, she walks back over. We look at each other for a second.

"Did you, uh, know him before?" I finally ask.

"Before the reapings? No." She glances back over. "He's still kinda my district partner, though. That feels like it should be important for something."

She taps her fingers on her thigh for a second before starting, "So, do you think he's beat-up enough we can just let him slip into our alliance?"

"Alliance?" I blink. "It's getting kind of late for that, don't you think?" I look over at where he's stretched out over the floor. "I don't like kids, anyway."

She puts her hands behind her head, turning away from me towards him. "Yeah, I guess we're a little too far in..."

"No point in allying with everyone when it would just be the size of a normal large alliance, anyway," I say. "Not to mention I wouldn't even get to fight him."

Before Romania can respond, something cracks.

We both hightail it to the nearest gap in the ceiling as a baby-sized clod of ice falls to the ground. Okay, that probably wouldn't have killed anybody, but it still could have hurt. Well, hurt Romania. I'm obviously tough enough for it to not affect me at all.

Another smallish piece falls, smacking onto the last one with a popping sound. Then comes another, and another. It's almost like the start of a storm spewing freakishly large hail.

And it's moving this way.

We take a few steps back, staying under our gap in the ceiling just in case, but the pounding sheet of ice chunks comes steadily towards us. Nothing from anywhere else seems to be falling, so it doesn't look like it'd be particularly dangerous to backtrack a bit more.

I go ahead and step back, but Romania grabs my jacket and tugs me forwards again.

I give her a look. "What?"

"It's all falling from the ceiling, you know. If there's nothing above us, it can't hit us."

With a look over at the falling ice, I pause. "They're not all really going straight down, though."

Frowning, she turns to look for herself. "Oh. Well, crap."

She takes a step back to get in line with me.

The wall keeps coming, and we end up picking up the pace as we walk backwards, careful not to trip on all of the stuff on the ground. It's really pretty difficult. Still, with the pelting pieces of glacier looming, I have plenty of motivation not to get my foot tangled in a stray scarf.

"Say," Romania starts, voice raised over all of the crashing noise, "do you think any of the dead-end tunnels would be safe?"

I've barely registered the statement before the wall of white comes rushing. At that point we have to turn heel and run for it.

Leaping over a box of firewood, I look ahead at some of the tunnel entries. There are six of them—I think, since I can't see some of them right now—round the cave, all of them reasonably long and leading to a wall of ice. Probably all of them lead to crevasses like the one we ended up in, but there wasn't much reason to look into it. If they're like the one we fell in, they're just as useless as, well, the one we fell in. Much more entertaining to go through all of the stuff in the big cave.

A lot of that stuff is probably being crushed right now, and I don't really want to be part of it.

Two doorway arches are still visible, and we're pretty much headed straight towards one of them, so forwards we go. The white wall continues after us, one broken-off chunk hitting my calf, but the tunnel's not far now.

The ice keeps falling, a mist of little chips coming over us as we struggle to go faster than all of it—and then there's the tunnel. I'm ahead of Romania, so I naturally jump in first, crawl-scooting into the thing as fast as my knees and palms will take me.

Despite her limp, Romania's almost right behind me. I grab her by the shoulder and jerk her in. Her forehead smacks into my shin, but only her feet are outside when the chunks of glacier close in. She makes some yelping sounds but pulls herself in, shaking out her ankles with a half-frown.

The smooth ice overhead doesn't crack, and after a minute the crackling of the giant hail outside dies down. The occasional clump of ice still drops from the remains of the ceiling, so we won't be leaving just yet if we don't have to.

Romania squints past my shoulder for a minute before I turn to look myself. The sheet of ice blocking the end of the tunnel is only a foot or so away, so it's pretty easy to see the big starburst of cracks in it. It's still mostly opaque, so I can't see much but my own reflection. Somehow I still don't need a shave.

"Was that there before?" Romania starts.

I scratch at my chin. "I don't know. We never went this far into one of them, so..." I squint at it. "Would we have been able to see it?"

She shrugs, scooting herself a bit closer. "There was that crash we heard a while ago. Maybe something fell down—" She freezes.

Occupied investigating the ice, I rap on the surface. It's not enough force to add to the web of cracks. With how thick this is, it'd probably take something fairly heavy falling into it. Maybe a tribute?

Yes! There's probably another tribute on the other side of this!

I thump a fist into the blockage about the same time Romania gasps, "Riben."

"What?"

"That—my district partner! We totally forgot about him!" She spins herself to face the cave and shimmies towards it for a minute. "We just left him there!"

"What else were we supposed to do?" I respond, sending another few lines scrambling over the ice's surface. "He wasn't our ally."

"Well, yeah, but..."

She scoots a bit further before I stop and turn round.

"Hang on," I say. "There's still stuff randomly falling out there. I didn't hear a cannon, anyway."

Hands poised to push her forwards another few inches, she bites her lip. I drive another punch into the wall.

My fist plows straight through.

Immediately there's a shriek and hurried footsteps. I'm happy there's a tribute but disappointed it's apparently a scaredy-cat girl. I keep blowing down the wall, anyway.

Apparently the scream caught Romania's attention, because she's back on this side of the tunnel looking past me.

Ahead looks like the bottom of another crevasse, though it's a lot wider than ours was. The ground is covered with ice chunks, a few of them, apparently formerly against the blocked doorway, rolling this way. Sitting up is Holland, her sword bared even though she doesn't look about to get up. A bit behind her is some other girl, probably the one that screamed. Her strategy seems to be trying to blend in with the wall behind her. It's not working too well.

"Hi," Romania says.

"Hi," Holland deadpans.

She turns the sword in her hand. "This is probably the last big battle, then. Just the four of us, and that little guy that's probably freezing to death somewhere."

"Wait, it's just us?" I respond, looking back at Romania. She's currently busy cringing at the mention of her district partner.

Holland takes the opportunity to hurl a chunk of ice at us.


	49. Fight Back

Recommended Listening: Jesus He Knows Me by Genesis

* * *

**Holland Mogens, District 7**

Splinters shatter away when the chunk of ice hits the side of Turk's face. He leans back a bit from the force of impact but shakes it off and gives me a look.

"What is this, a snowball fight?" he responds.

Still not planning to throw my sword with so many people to fight, I feel about for another suitable piece of glacier. Turk's not planning to stay still this time, though.

"Oh, no," he says, ducking into the crevasse and pushing himself to his feet. "If this is the last big fight, it's going to be a decent brawl, not a stoning."

He steps up to me, dangerously close to seeing the way my leg is bent.

"So you're going to fight your own district partner when there are other tributes here?" I start, looking up at him.

He's not quite sure what to think about that. If I could stand, he'd have a sword in his throat. As it is, he's not close enough to hit.

"Well, you're the one throwing ice at me!" he finally says, jabbing a finger at me.

I shrug. "I was just trying to get the two of you in here." A glance at the tunnel proves Romania has snuck in but is still sitting there. "If I was trying to kill you, I would have thrown harder than that."

All right, not entirely true. That was supposed to do something other than the tiny scratch it achieved. Unfortunately, he has a ridiculously hard head.

Turk frowns but glances back at Nada. "Hmm..."

As he sorts that out, I chuck an ice ball at Romania. She yelps, ducking to the side, and the ice crashes into the wall loudly enough to draw Turk's attention.

His gaze snaps back to me. "Hey!"

"What?"

He splutters for a second before gesturing at Romania. "She's my ally!"

"Well, she's not mine."

"Well..."

So Turk and Romania like each other, and Nada's still trying to hide somehow. Great. I'm the only one who wants to fight, and I can't even stand up.

Wondering if I could shift my weight enough to get over there, I briefly consider if there's any point to keep Turk thinking he shouldn't attack me.

At that point Romania lunges for me.

**Nada Ott, District 11**

This is not happening. This is not happening right now.

Light flashes off Holland's sword, and it hits Romania's.

We're trying to kill each other. We're not even Careers, we just met, and we're trying to kill each other.

Turk watches Romania shift her weight back, and then his gaze wanders over to me. I don't move. There's absolutely no reason it would work, but I don't care. Please don't see me. Please don't come over here.

There's a sword at his hip, too. I—I—Where's my knife? Do I still have it?

Turk steps over here. I try not to burst into tears. It's difficult. I don't want to die here. I don't, I don't, I don't.

I... don't want to meet my end here. So...

Turk throws his first punch, but I dodge the tiniest bit, and he misses.

...How about I not lay down and die?

I punch him in the chest. He moves a foot back to balance himself with a little bit of a coughing sound.

I scuttle back. "Sorry!"

H-He's trying to kill you, dang it! Don't apologise!

He raises an eyebrow but aims a fist at my glasses. I duck under, jabbing for his stomach, but he shoves a knee into my face. My head snaps back, and he rams a foot into my midsection, sending my back hard into the wall.

Trying not to collapse, I cough so hard I can barely hear the metal grating from Holland's fight. Pain crashes along the side of my head, and I just feel my glasses flying away before the momentum sends the other side of my head into the ice. Then the pressing cold vanishes, and I don't realise what's happening until I hit the rocky-feeling ground.

That metal sound rings again, but this time I know it's Turk drawing his sword. I can't push myself up fast enough. Everything's blurry, I feel like I'm going to throw up, and my arms are shaking like I took off my coat. The sword's coming down, down on my neck, and I'll be dead...

Before that happens, something nudges by shoulder. At some point I realise it's Turk's foot.

"Hey. I didn't hit you _that_ hard. Get up. This is pointless if you don't fight back any more than that."

Trembling, I get my arms under me and push myself up. Turk watches me evenly as I stand and lift my fists up towards my chin. Then he cracks a punch to my face. I bring up an arm and block, but there's an elbow thrust into my stomach before I can celebrate. I kick his stomach, but he doesn't cringe and instead brings his other elbow down on my knee. I slam my foot to the ground painfully and, before I can fall, throw my weight into a punch to his head.

It connects. He barely takes a step back as I scramble to stay upright, but a chunk of ice goes out from under him, and now he's the one on the ground. I step up, fists poised, trying to figure out what I'm supposed to do now.

Then I realise it's obvious. I'm supposed to kill him now. Take his sword and kill him.

I back away, shaking harder, and he gets back to his feet without much trouble. He starts to close back in on me until his ally suddenly screams. He and I both drop the fight for a second and look.

Holland's sword is inside Romania's knee at an angle, blood streaming out as the blade is removed. Holland shoves Romania's shin back and, unable to correct it or balance on her other knee, the Six falls to the ground. Hissing, Romania twists, her sword bared, before she realises there's a blade in her throat.

Holland pulls her arm away and watches her writhe and drown.

**Riben Wang, District 6**

Somewhere a cannon fires. I wonder if it's for me. But there's no claw coming down round me, no hovercraft pulling me into the sky towards my coffin.

I suppose I'm not really dead yet. Maybe they would go ahead and take me, though—it won't be long. I can't stay alive for much longer when I can't breathe.

I still don't know what happened. I think I'm facedown, somewhere cold. It's hard to tell. Everything's a bit faded now, and even all those things falling a second—or minute?—ago were quieter than they should have been. A weird pressure is inside my head, and I just can't put the blurry, little pieces together.

I can still tell my chest hurts, so much. Even though I can't breathe, I keep coughing, usually blood. I wonder if someone's strangling me. Or crushing my chest. Would this happen if that were the case?

But I don't know, and I can't figure it out now. I'm not going to get better, either.

So I'm about to die, I guess. I don't know what to say about that. I guess I didn't imagine it like this—or I guess I just didn't imagine it at all. Dying in the Hunger Games, years after my sister did the same.

But if we're both dead, we have to be together somehow. I wonder if she's been waiting for me. I guess it's good that I'm not taking any longer than this, if she is. What else would I have done with my life, anyway?

I think it's better this way. She doesn't have to wait anymore, and I... I don't, either.

I'm not sure how much longer I lie here hacking before everything goes black again.

But I know I die this time.


	50. Somehow

A/N: Crippling writer's block caused me to seek a friend's help in this. As such, some small portion of this writing is not mine. Sorry if it's weird.

Recommended Listening: Crossfire by The Scorpions (you might want to actually check out some lyrics on this one)

* * *

**Turk Adnan, District 7**

All I can do is stare until Romania stops moving. Her cannon echoes down into the crevasse, making the walls shiver, before I slowly turn my head to look at Holland.

She just killed my ally.

I'm pretty sure that means war.

As I slowly get hold of what's going on, I slam my foot into her head.

"You—_jerk_!" Which doesn't feel nearly strong enough, but I'd rather focus on beating her up than on a better name to call her.

Lowering my right foot, I snap up the left to kick the back of her head, but she's recovered enough to dodge to the side. She slashes back at my ankle, but it barely stings. The brat hasn't even stood up to fight me yet, and staying in the way of Romania's hovercraft isn't helping her case.

"Get up and fight!" I say, thumping my foot into her lower back.

She just whips her arm round to slash at my knee. In exchange, I ram my knee into the side of her face. This stuns her enough for me to get some more blows in.

Huh. She's not fighting back right now, and I don't really care.

I get in one more kick to her chin before her arm flies up and she stabs me in the stomach. Landing a quick punch, I can barely tell any damage has been done until she wrenches the blade back out. Then it starts burning.

Cringing, I kick, but she dodges, pushing herself away a little. My foot swipes air again before another wave of pain just about knocks me down. I stay on my feet but back away some, putting an arm over my wound and trying not to throw up.

This is burning way too much. What's going on? Did she hit something? Well, obviously she hit _something_, but...

Swallowing another impulse to barf, I glance to make sure she's not coming after me. She hasn't gotten up. The other girl's still standing off to the side.

Is it my stomach? Is that what she hit? Is it just spewing acid everywhere? Because that sounds really, really bad, and I'm really gonna hurl...

After kneeling down to do so, I wobble back to my feet. My whole abdomen's in pain now, and I have a feeling it's not going to get any better. Jumping around probably isn't going to help, either.

Would I die of this? I don't see why I wouldn't, without anyone to fix it down here.

So that's it. It's really all life and death. No more fun. I guess I should have figured that out when Romania got killed.

Gasping in breaths, I watch Holland and shakily withdraw the scimitar.

**Nada Ott, District 11**

Turk's sword comes out of its sheath with a piercing screech. Holland, not suppressing her grimace well, turns herself a bit, her wet sword raised. Stumbling, Turk charges, sword slashing in front of him. Holland parries, but the force sends her skidding sideways. Clutching his stomach, Turk frenziedly hacks at his opponent, but she swats the blows away. A series of piercing reports fills the air as their blades bounce off each other and scrape the ice.

Blood slowly stains their clothes as they strain to keep up the battle. Turk finally takes a second to step back and catch his breath, but Holland desperately swings at him before he's out of reach. Seeing the sudden gleam of her sword, he brings round the scimitar, catching her wrist before her weapon can find its mark.

With a hiss, Holland snatches her arm back. Taking the downtime gratefully, Turk backs away panting but missteps on an ice chunk. With a startled sound, he falls, and Holland shoves herself over the ice, stabbing. He covers his neck in time, but the sword digs far enough into his arm for him to yell.

Rolling away, he pushes himself to his feet, adjusts his grip on the scimitar, and brings it down. Holland blocks, pushing him back, and he slashes again.

His blade goes straight through her chest.

Both of them just stare at the buried scimitar for a minute. Somehow I manage to do the same. Somehow it's not so horrible I look away cringing. Somehow none of this battle has been. Somehow I've just been watching as two kids try to kill each other, and one succeeds.

And my ally's the one dead.

But—I couldn't have done much to protect her, right? Turk was winning our fight well enough, so I would have just gotten myself killed earlier.

The cannon booms.

I-I didn't have any responsibility for her. I made up for what I could about her broken leg, and ... And she was fighting well enough just then, anyway, so i-it's not really my fault...

My breath catches as Turk pulls out the scimitar. He wipes some blood out of his eyes and slowly turns my way.

I just pull out my little knife and try not to pass out.

**Turk Adnan, District 7**

It takes a lot of effort to put one foot in front of the other. The pain is making me dizzy, and whatever is happening, it's too much for the adrenaline to take care of.

I have to do this fast. I hope I'm able to.

Closing the gap between me and the last girl, I again force myself not to throw up, tensing my grip on the blade handle. She raises her knife shakily, and not in a particularly threatening way. There's really no good reason to kill her. But I have to get out of here so, sorry, but...

I slash at her midsection. She sidesteps, bringing her knife round towards my face, but I block with the scimitar and drive my free hand into her ribs. She staggers under the impact, and I put enough weight into it I end up struggling to keep my balance, too. Trying to somehow ignore all of the burning in my middle, I put my feet on stable ground and swipe the blade at her again. She blocks with her knife.

It flies out of her grip.

She makes a high-pitched sound that can't quite count as a scream and scrambles over the ice to get it. I'm really about to let her until splotches of black dance over my eyes. No time for a fair fight.

With a grunt, I lunge after her, slamming my sword into her back. She shrieks, collapsing to her knees and fumbling over the ice. I rip out the scimitar and slash again but she rolls out of the way, knife loosely in her hand. Quickly I stomp on her wrist, then her midsection. The scimitar flashes down for her neck. She brings up her other arm to block, and my blade stops at the bone. Struggling to escape, she kicks away pieces of ice but refuses to move her arm.

I raise the blade again before I realise she's crying. Darn it...

Lifting my foot off her hand—she lost her grip on the knife—I snap a kick to her defending arm and stab down at her neck again. The blade nicks the toe of my shoe but digs into her throat.

She chokes suddenly, tearful gaze flicking up at me. I remove the scimitar and step back, not watching, not thinking. Hard to think much, anyway, with my insides eating themselves away.

Her cannon fires.

I just stand here panting, scimitar abandoned to hold both arms over my stomach. It really doesn't help much.

After a moment I realise the Capitol hasn't picked me up yet. After another I realise a hovercraft hasn't come to pick up any of the other bodies here. Is the space too small?

One more go of barfing later, I stagger towards the tunnel. The big cave should have plenty of room. There's not even a ceiling left.

I drag myself over the smooth ice and lower myself onto the no-more-stable floor of the big cave. Black flashes across my vision as I stumble closer to the centre, and at last a hovercraft is there to save me. I don't even hear them announce my victory before the claw closes round me.

They'd... They'd better fix me up quick if they want a Victor...

Somewhere along the journey up, I pass out.


	51. Poison

A/N: The last chapter of the last story. There's so much I could say, but I'll just keep it short:

Thanks.

Here are the kills; feel free to come back to them after you read the chapter, or after you have somewhat recovered from the general trauma of reading this.

Chanelle Monaco, D5, 14 (mines)  
Yana Sappe, D12, 15 (mines)  
Lili Stein, D8, 13 (Yao)  
Florry Raman, D5, 15 (Amantius)  
Shaye Selles, D3, 17 (Anglynn)  
Taner Nacar, D8, 15 (Rica)  
Drius Bousky, D3, 18 (Ivan)  
Cuba Machado, D11, 18 (Rica)  
Anissa Dell, D9, 15 (lightning)  
Zavann Liu, D9, 14 (Ermine)  
Anglynn Redulite, D2, 16 (Holland)  
Ivan Muskov, D4, 17 (Rica)  
Rica States, D4, 17 (Yao)  
Yao Qin, D1, 18 (Amantius)  
Egypt Hassan, D12, 16 (ice)  
Italo Veneziano, D10, 17 (Cisca)  
Amantius Redulite, D2, 17 (Ermine)  
Cisca Lemieux, D1, 17 (Ermine)  
Ermine Lutz, D10, 18 (Italo)  
Romania Viorel, D6, 16 (Holland)  
Holland Mogens, D7, 16 (Turk)  
Nada Ott, D11, 16 (Turk)  
Turk Adnan, D7, 16 (Holland)

* * *

**Riben Wang, District 6**

I should not be alive.

I wasn't supposed to be the Victor of the 53rd annual Hunger Games. By all means, Turk was. He was a fighter; he was a killer; he was a popular tribute. I was none of those things.

Needless to say, the Capitol tried to save him. They plucked him out of the arena while two of us were still alive, and they held off the announcement of Victor for hours as they operated. They couldn't fix him.

But they could fix me. They needed a Victor, so they had to keep me alive.

I wish they hadn't. I wish I hadn't only gone into shock during that final battle.

I wish a lot of things, I suppose. There's nothing I can do about most of it. I'm still alive, and I can't bring myself to change that. I don't think China would like it. Violence is violence, regardless of who's killing whom.

Though I'm not sure why I insist the morphling doesn't count as violence. It's still stabbing holes in myself and filling them with poison. But I really don't have a choice. I've been taking it too long, and I certainly can't go back and stop myself from taking the first dose.

I honestly wouldn't do that if I could. There was no other way to deal with it all. The recaps were a horror, but I could have recovered. Watching Italo poison the girl who loved him was mind-shattering, but I could have recovered. Watching all of the murder, all of the hatred, all of the violence of the Games was harrowing, but I could have recovered.

Watching my parents die was what did me in.

If I had ever thought I was going to win the Games, I may have expected it. No one could break the rules, getting out of there alive without a single murder to his name, and go unpunished. Whatever I may have wanted, I flouted the Capitol's authority, and I paid the price.

That doesn't mean it was justified. That doesn't justify one second of it. Whatever the circumstances, there is absolutely nothing right about torturing a thirteen-year-old's parents in front of him.

Dad finally decided he really did hate me and screamed all about it. Mom refused to say a word.

Inhaling shakily, I watch the rain dot my window. I don't need to see that in my mind again. I've relived it enough times, and I don't want another shot of morphling right now.

It's right by the bed stand, though, readily accessible. It's not difficult to find in any part of the medicine district, really. Probably why it's our Victors' usual vice. Certainly why I got it.

It's really not all bad, though. It blurs the worst of things, of course. I'm in terrible shape physically, but it's not as if I get out much. I don't look any better than how I feel, but that's good, too. When I look like a faded yellow ghost, no one wants to buy me. It's as much of an antidote as it is a poison.

Cringing from the ache, I shift my seating position but keep looking out the window. The view isn't much—some trees and the district fence in the distance. People rarely walk by this way. Naturally, it's the best part of the house for me to stay in.

A quick rap on the door draws my attention away from the streaked pane.

"Mister Riben?" The door swings open a crack, and Leon peeks inside. "D'you want me to start making your lunch?"

I blink slowly and nod. "Yes, I would like that."

" 'Kay." He shuts the door.

I listen as his footsteps fade towards the kitchen. How long has he been working for me now? It's hard to tell time when everything morphs into a haze so often, but I should keep better track. It would be dangerous for him if he stayed round me too long.

I've been through a lot of helpers by now. I may have enough money to just hire a trained caretaker from the Capitol, but I don't. I just take in some districtgoer who could use extra funds for a month or so. Usually I end up with kids, but if they can cook and wash clothing and bedsheets, it doesn't matter.

I made the mistake of hiring a girl my own age once. I think we were nineteen, but it's hard to be sure. She's another thing I try not to think about much, and fail completely at doing so.

I kept her as a helper for too long. She was too caring. I talked to her too much. She talked to me too much.

Maybe that's looking at it a bit too harshly. It was wonderful while it lasted. She actually made me smile sometimes. Within a few months, I wanted to stop poisoning myself, just for her sake. I wanted... a lot of things that had to do with her.

One day she didn't come over to work. Apparently her parents couldn't wake her that morning. I don't remember what the doctor claimed it was. I know the Capitol poisoned her.

And that was it. My helpers now stay for no more than a few weeks and are almost always male. I'm still alone, but I have my morphling.

That's just how the Capitol wants it to be, I guess. I didn't cause death in the arena, so I'm to carry it with me the rest of my life. Now I am the poison. No one can come close and live.

I don't mind being alone. For the most part. I'm used to it, at least, so it has some level of comfort. I just stay in this room or my room on the train and quietly carve the woodcuts few care to see.

Not many remember me, I think. I'm sure that's what the Capitol wants. I humiliated them—why wouldn't they want to erase me from their history? I still have to mentor—they still have to hurt me—but otherwise I linger in the shadows, right where they want me.

But why should they get what they want? Why should they get anything when all they want is children murdering each other and every district hating each other and every Victor hating himself and...

I take in a shuddering breath and drag my attention back to the window and the soft _pa-ra, pa-ra_ of rain behind it.

There's still nothing I can do. One man can't take down the Capitol, and I can't gain followers when anyone close to me has to die. Even if I could, what would I do? Wage war? It would just get people killed, and the last thing I want is more of that.

So I do nothing. Keep myself alive and leave the rest alone.

It does get lonely when I let it. Even when I'm so used to living this way, even when interacting with others doesn't come the least bit naturally, I still want company sometimes. I can't let myself get close to my helpers, though, and I don't plan on inviting anyone else in. No one's safe from me.

But sometimes I wonder if the other Victors are immune. If the Capitol won't even kill me, surely they wouldn't end the life of any other Victor. But the Victors' lives aren't all they hold dear. Even if I'm not poisonous enough to kill them, I can't think that I wouldn't do any damage. And I can't go make friends for my own petty wants if it gets their loved ones killed, or anything else.

I'll just stay where I can't hurt anyone. It's worked for this many years, and it ought to keep working that many years more.

Or it ought to if I'm alive that long. Between the morphling and those terrifying times I can't breathe no matter how hard I try, I can't be sure of tomorrow.

I don't really mind that.


End file.
